E  IDE  CHA 


Emx0rxat 


From 

MRS.  GEORGE   I.  CHACE. 

Providence,  June,  1886. 


'^^ 


.  j^.^A 


cie^<^ 


GEORGE   IDE  CHACE,  ll.d. 


9L  iHetnotial* 


EDITED  BY 

JAMES   O.  MURRAY. 


CAMBRIDGE: 

1886. 


13>. 


^;V5^ 


But  I  that  am  under  a  command  not  to  grieve  at  the  common  rate  of  desolate  women, 
while  I  am  studying  which  loay  to  moderate  my  woe,  and  if  it  were  possible  to  augment 
my  love,  can  for  the  present  Jind  out  none  more  just  [to  him]  nor  consolatory  to  myself 
than  the  preservation  of  his  memory ;  which  I  need  not  gild  as  with  such  flattering  com- 
mendations as  the  hired  preachers  do  equally  give  to  the  truly  and  titularly  honorable. 
A  naked,  unadorned  narrative,  speaking  the  simple  truth  of  him  will  deck  hivi  with  more 
substantial  glory  than  all  the  panegyrics  the  best  pens  could  ever  consecrate  to  the  virtues 
of  the  best  men.  —  Memoirs  of  Colonel  Hutchinson  by  his  Wife. 


692649 


CONTENTS. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 1 

LIST   OF  CONTRIBUTIONS  TO   REVIEWS 70 

LECTURES   AND  ESSAYS 71 

The  Existence  of  GtOD 73 

Thb  Materialistic  Form  of  thb  Development  Hypothesis  .  .  .92 
Of  Some  of  the  Difficdltibs  with  which  Theism  is  pressed  .  114 
The  Relation  of  God  to  the  Natural  and  Moral  Worlds  .  .  138 
Collateral  Proofs  of  the  Argument  from  Design    ....      156 

A  Discourse  on  Francis  Watland 177 

The  Realm  op  Faith 220 

Man  a  Cbeatitb  Fibst  Causb ^243 


BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 


JAMES  O.   MURRAY,  D.  D. 


GEORGE   IDE   CHACE. 


The  life  of  a  beloved  and  venerated  teacher  has  peculiar 
claims  for  commemoration.  Even  when  his  fame  has  been 
secured  by  his  writings  or  his  services,  much  of  his  best  work 
simply  lives  in  the  character  of  the  pupils  he  has  trained.  In 
thus  moulding  character,  he  touches  and  shapes  the  most  vital 
interests  of  society.  He  becomes  a  power  behind  the  throne. 
The  world  may  admire  the  philosophical  writings  of  Plato  more 
than  his  personal  reminiscences  of  Socrates.  But  if  we  were 
compelled  to  choose  between  these  and  the  dreamy  speculations 
in  some  of  his  treatises,  we  should  not  hesitate  to  take  his  grate- 
ful record  of  the  life  of  the  great  Grecian  teacher,  and  give  up 
his  brilliant  speculations  in  philosophy.  Dr.  Arnold  of  Rugby 
has  just  claims  for  remembrance  as  a  historical  scholar.  It  is 
not  these,  however,  by  which  he  will  chiefly  Hve  in  the  grate- 
ful estimation  of  his  countrymen.  His  fame  will  be  perpetuated 
rather  as  the  great  educator,  who  more  than  any  man  of  his 
age  lifted  the  high  vocation  of  the  teacher  into  its  deserved 
prominence. 

All  the  more  is  it  true  that  the  teachers  of  men  should  be 
fitly  commemorated,  if  the  subject  of  the  memoir  has  been  one 
of  those  choice  spirits  whose  real  worth  has  been  somewhat 
veiled  by  reserve,  whose  sphere  of  work  has  been  outside  the 


2  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

glare  of  wide  publicity.  It  happens  also  in  the  case  of  not  a 
few  of  our  worthiest  scholars  that  their  toils  have  been  put 
forth  in  a  varied  field  of  effort,  sometimes  compelled  to  this  by 
circumstances  or  necessity,  when,  if  choice  could  have  been  fol- 
lowed, and  the  talents  concentrated  on  one  line  of  work,  the 
impression  of  the  life  would  have  been  more  sharply  defined. 
For  such,  the  only  adequate  estimate  can  be  reached  by  "  gath- 
ering up  the  fragments  that  remain,  that  nothing  be  lost,"  and 
weaving  into  a  connected  whole  what  in  its  separateness  never 
gains  the  appreciation  it  deserves.  And  when  a  high  unity  of 
Christian  purpose  has  characterized  the  whole  career,  and  the 
life  has  borne  its  best  fruit  in  the  closing  period,  the  task  will 
be  one  no  less  dehghtf  ul  than  sacred. 

George  Ide  Chace,  the  son  of  Charles  and  Ruth  (Jenckes) 
Chace,  was  born  in  Lancaster,  Massachusetts,  February  19, 
1808.  The  home  into  which  he  was  born  was  one  of  those 
New  England  households  in  which  so  many  of  our  best  public 
men  have  been  trained.  Its  atmosphere  was  one  of  strictness 
in  religious  belief  and  life.  But  no  austerity  chilled  the  affec- 
tionate intercourse  between  parents  and  son.  The  relation  be- 
tween his  parents  and  himself,  judging  from  his  letters,  was 
one  of  uncommon  confidence  and  tenderness.  Writing  to  his 
mother  on  his  thirty-sixth  birthday,  he  says :  — 

This  day  reminds  me  anew  of  the  untold,  unpaid,  and  unpayable 
debt  of  gratitude  which  every  son  is  under  to  a  good  mother,  and  for 
which  the  only  return  he  can  make  is  to  show  her  that  he  is  not 
insensible  of  it.  Frequently,  when  not  otherwise  occupied,  does  my 
mind  wander  back  to  the  days  of  my  early  childhood,  when  it  was  so 
sweet  to  pillow  my  head  upon  my  mother's  knee,  when  her  lap  was  my 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  3 

home,  the  safe  refuge  to  which  I  flew  from  every  childish  grief  or 
trouble.  And  there  are  moments  when  my  spirit,  worn  and  soiled  by 
the  cares  of  life,  has  lost  its  freshness  and  its  hope,  in  which  I  would 
fain  be  that  little  boy  over  again,  and  again  nestle  in  my  mother's 
bosom,  and  find  it  as  secure  a  retreat  from  the  trials  of  manhood  as 
I  then  did  from  the  trials  of  infancy. 

His  boyhood  was  passed  on  a  large  farm,  now  the  seat  of  ex- 
tensive manufactories.  The  surrounding  region  is  one  of  great 
natural  beauty,  and  to  this  in  his  earlier  years,  as  indeed 
through  life,  he  was  keenly  sensitive.  It  wakened  in  him  at 
an  early  period  the  love  for  observation  of  nature  which  simi- 
lar surroundings  have  developed  in  the  case  of  many  scientific 
men.  His  interest  in  all  natural  growths  strengthened  with 
years  and  studies.  His  love  for  nature  was  something  more 
and  deeper  always  than  scientific  interest.  It  was  also  the  sen- 
timent which  the  poetry  of  Wordsworth  expresses  so  tenderly 
and  richly.  But  the  scientific  interest  and  the  tender  senti- 
ment had  their  beginnings  in  the  early  home  at  Lancaster. 

An  accident  which  befell  him  at  ten  years  of  age  was  a 
turning  point  in  his  life.  He  fell  from  the  roof  of  a  building 
then  undergoing  repairs.  He  escaped  fatal  injury,  but  was  for 
a  time  confined  to  the  house.  During  this  protracted  convales- 
cence, he  gave  himself  to  study  under  the  tuition  of  an  elder 
brother.  Natural  love  of  study  was  quickened.  His  thoughts 
were  turned  in  the  direction  of  a  collegiate  education,  and  his 
heart  became  set  upon  it.  In  this  desire  his  father  warmly  sym- 
pathized, and  when  his  confinement  was  ended  he  began  the 
preparatory  studies  at  Lancaster  Academy.  Here  a  marked 
aptness  for  study  and  devotion  to  it  drew  upon  him  the  notice 
of  the  principal,  who  wisely  and  warmly  fostered  the  studious 


4  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

purposes  of  his  pupil.  For  this  service  to  himself,  in  furnish- 
ing him  at  the  very  outset  of  his  life  as  a  scholar  with  so  much 
genuine  stimulus,  Professor  Chace  always  delighted  to  express 
the  sincerest  and  deepest  gratitude.  It  was  a  service  which  he 
amply  repaid  in  similar  help  to  many  of  his  college  pupils,  who 
recall  it  with  affection  and  gratitude. 

In  the  autumn  of  1827  he  entered  the  sophomore  class  of 
Brown  University.  Under  the  presidency  of  Dr.  Wayland,  be- 
gun in  that  year,  the  institution  was  animated  by  a  new  life, 
graphically  described  by  Professor  Chace  himself,  in  his  dis- 
course on  the  virtues  and  services  of  Dr.  Wayland.  His  intellec- 
tual enthusiasm  was  still  more  roused.  He  applied  himself  to 
college  work  with  unremitting  pains,  and  was  graduated  in  1830 
with  the  first  honors  of  his  class,  a  class  which  has  enrolled  in  it 
names  of  high  distinction.  His  valedictory  oration  on  the  "  Re- 
sults of  Improvements  in  the  Science  of  Education  "  seems  to 
show  that  the  vocation  of  the  teacher  was  attracting  him.  He 
does  not  seem  seriously  to  have  contemplated  any  other  as  his 
calling  in  life.  Immediately  after  his  graduation,  he  took  the 
position  of  principal  of  the  academy  in  Waterville,  Maine,  now 
known  as  the  Waterville  Classical  Institute,  but  after  a  brief 
service  there  relinquished  it,  to  accept  the  office  of  tutor  in 
Brown  University.  Short,  however,  as  the  term  of  service  was, 
it  disclosed  his  rare  abilities  as  a  teacher,  and  it  gave  him  life- 
long friendships.  Years  later,  in  1841,  a  call  to  become  the  pres- 
ident of  the  college  in  Waterville,  now  known  as  Colby  Univer- 
sity, shows  that  his  earlier  labors  had  never  been  forgotten. 

In  1831  he  was  offered  the  place  of  tutor  in  Brown  Univer- 
sity. He  accepted  the  office  at  once,  and  thus  began  that  long 
and  brilliant  career  of  service  to  his  Alma  Mater  which  lasted 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  5 

forty-one  years.  The  tutorship  to  which  he  was  called  was  that 
of  mathematics,  a  branch  of  study  for  which  he  had  in  school 
and  college  days  shown  marked  aptitude.  From  time  to  time 
during  his  connection  with  the  college,  he  was  called  on  to 
give  instruction  in  its  various  departments.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  if  Professor  Chace  had  devoted  his  life  to  the 
study  of  pure  mathematics,  his  abilities  would  have  placed  him 
in  the  front  rank  of  our  mathematicians.  In  1833,  he  was  ad- 
vanced from  his  tutorship  to  the  position  of  adjunct  professor 
of  mathematics  and  natural  philosophy,  and  at  this  point  his 
subsequent  career  as  a  teacher  of  natural  sciences  begins.  In 
1834,  he  was  appointed  professor  of  .chemistry.  In  1836,  the 
chair  was  enlarged  to  that  of  chemistry,  geology,  and  physi- 
ology, a  chair  filled  by  him  till  the  end  of  the  college  year 
1866—67.  These  are  certainly  rapid  changes  in  the  depart- 
ments of  instruction.  They  are  advances,  too,  in  the  nature 
and  extent  of  work  required  of  him.  They  only  show  how 
early  and  how  thoroughly  Professor  Chace  had  displayed  his 
varied  powers.  The  following  sketch  of  his  career,  drawn  by 
his  lifelong  friend  and  associate.  Professor  Gammell,  will  re- 
veal the  sources  of  his  power,  and  the  secret  of  his  success  in 
his  manifold  labors  for  the  college  and  for  the  public. 

Of  Professor  Chace's  student  days  I  have  little  knowledge.  He 
graduated  in  1830,  and  I  graduated  in  1831,  but  I  recall  little  else 
concerning  him  than  the  high  rank  which  he  held  in  his  class,  and 
the  general  estimate  which  was  entertained  by  his  fellow  students  of 
his  abiUty  to  master  any  subject  to  which  he  gave  his  attention.  In 
the  summer  following  his  graduation,  by  the  selection  of  President 
Wayland,  he  came  back  to  the  college  as  tutor  of  mathematics.  He 
thus  became  a  member  of  the  faculty  of  instruction,  a  position  which 


6  GEORGE  IDE  CHACE. 

he  continued  to  hold  till  the  summer  of  1872,  during  forty-one  years. 
In  this  time  I  was  associated  with  him  as  an  instructor  in  the  college 
from  1832  to  1864,  a  period  of  nearly  thirty-two  years ;  and  though 
in  quite  different  departments  of  instruction  from  his,  I  was  fully  ac- 
quainted not  only  with  the  character  of  his  work  and  the  manner  in 
which  it  was  performed,  but  also  with  the  spirit  with  which  he  was 
animated  and  the  success  which  he  achieved. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  period  a  New  England  college  was  an 
institution  quite  different  from  what  it  has  since  become.  It  then  re- 
tained something  of  the  semi-monastic  character  which  belonged  to  the 
colleges  that  form  the  two  great  universities  of  England.  From  these 
colleges  our  own  had  taken  their  type.  The  rules  as  to  the  life  and 
the  work  of  students  were  still  somewhat  rigid,  and  allowed  far  less 
liberty  than  now  prevails.  Officers  of  instruction,  whether  professors 
or  tutors,  were  required  to  occupy  rooms  in  the  halls,  and  to  exercise 
an  oversight  over  their  students  in  the  rooms  around  them.  The 
whole  college  assembled  at  chapel  for  morning  and  evening  prayers, 
the  former  being  at  six  o'clock  in  summer,  and  not  later  than  seven  in 
winter.  There  was  also  a  commons  hall,  at  which  most  of  the  students 
took  their  meals,  and  there  were  study  hours,  during  which  all  rec- 
reation was  suspended  and  the  strictest  quiet  was  enjoined.  The 
accepted  theory  in  those  days  was,  that  a  student's  life  was  to  be  one 
of  systematic  and  diligent  work.  College  education  did  not  then 
embrace  so  many  amusements  as  now  belong  to  it.  Affiliated  secret 
societies  had  only  just  begun  to  exist,  though  there  had  long  been 
societies  for  debate  and  for  literary  exercises.  There  were  then  no 
inter  -  collegiate  matches  in  boating,  or  base  ball,  or  other  athletic 
sports.  Even  Class  Day  was  celebrated  on  a  scale  that  would  now  be 
thought  very  limited.  But  even  thus  college  life  had  its  enjoyments 
which  the  men  of  that  day  delight  to  recall,  and  its  essential  work 
has  not  materially  changed.  Its  greater  freedom  and  its  enlarged 
self  -  reliance  have  undoubtedly  been  of  important  advantage  in  the 
formation  of  manly  character. 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  7 

As  I  have  stated,  Mr.  Chace  began  as  tutor  in  mathematics.  He 
was  soon  promoted  to  be  assistant  professor  of  mechanical  philosophy, 
and  in  this  latter  capacity  he  began  the  teaching  of  chemistry.  While 
thus  engaged,  he  spent  a  lecture  season  in  Philadelphia,  as  a  special 
assistant  of  Dr.  Eobert  Hare,  then  at  the  height  of  his  renown  as  pro- 
fessor of  chemistry  in  the  Medical  School  of  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania. He  also  attended  lectures  in  anatomy  and  physiology  at 
that  school,  which  was  then  largely  resorted  to  by  students  of  natu- 
ral science.  Not  long  after  his  return,  a  professorship  was  created 
specially  for  him,  and  was  made  to  embrace  the  three  comprehensive 
and  attractive  sciences  of  chemistry,  physiology,  and  geology,  and  in 
the  teaching  of  these  sciences,  with  their  various  affiliations  and  ap- 
plications, he  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  professional  life.  He  be- 
came a  master  in  each  one  of  them ;  not  only  a  lecturer  and  teacher, 
but  also  an  original  investigator  as  to  their  laws  and  uses  and  their 
manifold  relations  to  other  kinds  of  knowledge. 

These  sciences  had  then  scarcely  begun  to  have  any  other  than  a 
very  secondary  place  in  college  education.  To  make  room  for  them, 
and  to  allow  to  them  anything  like  the  prominence  which  some  of 
their  votaries  demanded,  would  require  very  important  changes  in  the 
course  of  instruction,  in  which  the  ancient  languages  had  hitherto  held 
the  most  conspicuous  place.  The  whole  question  as  to  what  should 
constitute  a  liberal  education  was  thus  raised,  and  it  has  not  ceased  to 
be  earnestly  discussed  even  at  the  present  time.  President  Wayland, 
as  is  well  known,  entertained  very  liberal  views  on  this  question,  and 
some  years  later  embodied  them  in  a  little  volume  entitled,  "  Thoughts 
on  the  Present  System  of  Collegiate  Education  in  the  United  States." 
From  him  the  new  studies  did  not  fail  to  receive  all  needed  encourage- 
ment. He  also  had  a  high  appreciation  of  Mr.  Chace's  ability  and 
promise  as  an  instructor,  and  we  may  readily  believe  that  in  addition 
to  this  he  felt  a  warm  interest  in  the  success  of  the  earliest  of  his  own 
pupils  who  had  been  appointed  to  a  professor's  chair.  All  his  expec- 
tations, I  well  remember,  were  fully  satisfied  by  the  manner  in  which 


8  GEORGE  IDE  CHACE. 

his  pupil  performed  his  work.  He  entered  into  it  with  the  utmost 
zeal.  He  made  the  study  of  these  sciences  exceedingly  attractive  from 
the  very  outset.  He  imparted  his  own  enthusiasm  to  his  successive 
classes.  The  leading  proficients  among  them  he  would  invite  to  spe- 
cial investigations,  and  would  constantly  select  from  them  his  assist- 
ants in  the  laboratory  and  lecture  room. 

It  is  to  be  kept  in  mind  that  much  of  the  scientific  knowledge  which 
is  to  us  familiar  then  presented  the  aspect  of  novelty  and  even  of  mys- 
tery. The  scientific  methods  which  have  now  been  long  in  use  were 
then  new.  The  applications  of  chemistry  to  the  innumerable  pro- 
cesses in  which  it  is  now  involved  had  then  just  been  developed.  The 
primal  facts  of  animal  and  vegetable  physiology  and  their  connection 
not  only  with  human  life,  but  with  the  whole  realm  of  organized  being, 
were  then  recent  discoveries,  and  so  novel  were  the  teachings  of  geol- 
ogy that  many  learned  theologians  were  ready  to  denounce  the  sci- 
ence as  hostile  to  revealed  religion.  It  is  thus  that  Professor  Chace 
was  one  of  the  pioneers  in  teaching  at  an  American  college  the  phys- 
ical sciences  according  to  the  methods  which  now  prevail.  With  many 
of  the  leading  masters  of  these  sciences  he  maintained  a  familiar  ac- 
quaintance. He  was  always  attached  to  his  early  teacher.  Dr.  Hare, 
and  often  saw  him  in  his  annual  visits  to  Providence.  He  shared  in 
the  extraordinary  impulse  which  the  advent  of  Professor  Agassiz  im- 
parted to  scientific  study,  especially  in  geology  and  physiology,  and  fre- 
quently met  him  in  familiar  personal  relations.  He  numbered  the  late 
Professor  Guyot  and  Professor  James  D.  Dana  among  his  personal 
friends,  and  with  the  late  Professor  Henry,  of  the  Smithsonian  Insti- 
tution, he  was  on  terms  of  special  intimacy,  and  kept  up  with  him  a 
frequent  correspondence  to  the  end  of  his  life.  The  latter  especially 
often  urged  him  to  publish  some  of  the  results  of  his  scientific  work, 
but  save  to  a  very  limited  extent,  he  was  never  willing  to  do  so.  His 
ideal  in  such  matters  was  a  high  one,  and  he  thought  that  many  so- 
called  contributions  to  science  were  hardly  worthy  of  the  name.  I 
have  often  heard  him  modestly  say  that  he  had  nothing  of  the  kind 
worth  publishing. 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  9 

His  services  as  a  teacher  of  science  were  by  no  means  confined  to 
his  college  classes.  Quite  early  in  his  career  his  lectures  in  chemistry, 
by  an  arrangement  of  the  city  authorities,  vrere  attended  by  the  elder 
classes,  of  both  sexes,  of  the  Providence  High  School,  and  this  arrange- 
ment continued  for  several  years.  He  also  gave  a  brilliant  series  of 
special  lectures  to  the  manufacturing  jewelers  of  Providence,  which 
at  the  time  attracted  much  attention.  He  was  frequently  resorted  to 
for  advice  by  manufacturers  and  others  engaged  in  industries  depend- 
ing on  the  right  application  of  the  principles  of  chemistry.  Invita- 
tions, too,  constantly  came  to  him  to  lecture  in  distant  places,  as  well 
as  in  those  near  to  Providence,  most  of  which  he  was  obliged  to 
decline  on  account  of  his  college  engagements.  He,  however,  during 
vacations  in  different  years,  gave  courses  of  lectures  in  Boston,  at  the 
Peabody  Institute  in  Baltimore,  and  at  the  Smithsonian  Institution  in 
Washington.  In  the  years  between  1863  and  1866,  while  the  gold 
excitement  was  prevailing,  his  services  were  in  great  demand  among 
capitalists,  who  sought  advice  as  to  the  value  of  mines  which  were 
offered  to  them  for  purchase.  In  business  of  this  kind  he  was  for  a 
time  quite  largely  engaged,  purely  as  a  man  of  science,  who  had  noth- 
ing at  stake  but  his  professional  reputation.  He  thus  visited  mining 
districts  in  Nova  Scotia,  in  Canada,  in  Colorado,  and  other  Territories 
of  the  West,  and  also  in  Nicaragua,  in  Central  America.  But  he 
made  no  ventures  for  himself,  and,  by  his  careful  examinations  and 
cautious  judgments,  I  have  no  doubt  he  often  prevented  others  from 
doing  so,  greatly  to  their  own  advantage. 

In  the  summer  of  1867,  the  presidency  of  Brown  University  be- 
came vacant  by  the  resignation  of  the  Rev.  Barnas  Sears,  D.  D.,  who 
had  been  elected  General  Agent  of  the  Peabody  Education  Fund. 
The  resignation  was  unexpected,  and  it  occasioned  no  small  embar- 
rassment at  the  college.  Professor  Chace  was  the  senior  member  of 
the  faculty,  and  by  a  portion  of  the  corporation  he  was  deemed  the 
most  desirable  person  that  could  be  selected  to  fill  the  vacant  office, 
while  a  majority  of  that  body  were  unwilling  to  vote  for  any  one  who 


10  GEORGE  IDE  CHACE. 

was  not  a  clergyman,  as  all  the  presidents  had  hitherto  been.  An- 
other person  was  accordingly  chosen  to  fill  the  office,  but  by  him  it 
was  declined.  Meanwhile,  the  emergency  became  a  pressing  one,  and 
Professor  Chace  was  requested  to  assume  the  office  ad  interim^  till 
another  election  should  be  made ;  and  he  was  also  charged  with  the 
instruction  of  the  senior  class  in  metaphysics  and  ethics,  a  work  usu- 
ally associated  with  the  office  of  president.  This,  not  without  reluc- 
tance, he  also  consented  to  do,  for  it  seemed  to  be  essential  to  the 
well-being  of  the  college,  and  for  six  months  he  performed  the  two- 
fold duties  thus  assigned  to  him,  with  eminent  success.  It  was,  how- 
ever, still  the  opinion  of  the  corporation  that  the  head  of  the  college 
should  be  a  minister  of  the  gospel.  The  result  was  that  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Caswell,  the  venerable  and  highly  esteemed  ex -professor  of  mathe- 
matics and  astronomy,  who  had  retired  from  his  chair  some  years 
before,  was  chosen  to  the  office  of  president,  and  Professor  Chace  was 
at  the  same  time  transferred  to  the  professorship  of  metaphysics  and 
ethics.  Dr.  Caswell  was  now  advanced  in  life,  and  was  unwilling  to 
undertake  the  duties  of  a  new  department  of  instruction.  He  could 
not,  therefore,  fill  the  office  of  president,  unless  the  other  part  of  the 
corporation's  arrangement  was  carried  into  effect  by  Mr.  Chace's  ac- 
ceptance of  the  vacant  professorship.  The  dilemma  was  not  an  agree- 
able one.  It  demanded  a  great  sacrifice  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Chace, 
and  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  hesitated  before  accepting  a  position 
not  only  involving  new  labors  and  responsibilities,  but  also  thus  pecu- 
liarly conditioned  by  the  action  of  the  corporation.  His  final  decision 
was  prompted  by  his  loyalty  to  the  college,  and  by  his  warm  regard 
for  Dr.  Caswell,  his  early  teacher,  and  his  friend  and  associate  for 
many  years.  His  acceptance,  in  the  circumstances,  was  regarded  by 
his  friends  as  an  act  of  rare  magnanimity  and  self-denial. 

It  is  not  to  be  imagined  that  Professor  Chace  was  summoned  from 
his  chair  of  natural  science  to  one  apparently  so  dissimilar  without 
distinct  and  well-considered  reference  to  his  qualifications.  In  the  first 
place,  he  had  been  a  teacher  in  the  college  for  thirty-six  years,  and  in 


GEORGE  IDE  CHACE.  11 

that  time  had  taught  a  variety  of  studies  probably  greater  than  any 
other  teacher  in  its  whole  history,  and  this  he  had  done  with  a  high 
order  of  success.  His  mind  united  in  a  rare  degree  metaphysical 
acuteness  and  philosophic  breadth,  and  he  was  an  accomplished  master 
in  the  art  of  teaching.  Nor  had  his  devotion  to  natural  science  been 
by  any  means  exclusive.  He  could  not  study  any  one  subject  without 
considering  its  relations  to  kindred  subjects.  To  his  thoughtful  and 
religious  mind  the  world  of  matter  was  the  vestibide  to  tlje  world  of 
spirit.  His  study  of  the  mysteries  of  the  one  had  led  him  to  con- 
template the  sublimer  mysteries  of  the  other.  No  realm  of  inquiry 
was  to  him  invested  with  so  much  interest  as  that  which  lies  on  the 
confines  of  matter  and  mind,  and  he  had  long  delighted  to  meditate 
the  problems  which  it  suggests,  and  the  analogies  which  it  reveals. 
He  was  also  well  informed  as  to  the  characteristics  of  the  leading 
schools  of  metaphysical  philosophy,  and  once  engaged  in  his  new 
teaching  he  became  intensely  interested  in  it.  He  performed  his 
work  in  a  manner  which  awakened  the  utmost  enthusiasm  in  the  sev- 
eral classes  he  instructed,  and  retired  from  it  in  1872,  at  the  end  of 
five  years  of  most  useful  and  honorable  service. 

I  have  thus  written  of  Professor  Chace  only  as  a  man  of  science 
and  as  a  teacher.  This,  however,  is  by  no  means  all  that  he  was.  I 
have  been  much  with  him  in  other  interesting  relations  in  which  his 
personal  qualities  were  finely  shown  and  his  varied  resources  were 
amply  revealed.  Of  these  I  may  refer  to  a  circle  of  educated  men, 
known  as  the  "  Friday  Evening  Club,"  of  which  he  was  one  of  the 
original  members.  It  was  formed  in  1868,  and  was  not  suspended  till 
1881,  and  then  only  in  consequence  of  the  changes  which  death  and 
absence  and  domestic  bereavement  had  wrought  among  those  who 
composed  it.  It  was  essentially  and  largely  social  in  its  character  and 
spirit,  but  each  member  was  required  in  his  turn  to  furnish  a  paper 
on  some  subject  of  his  own  selection  that  was  also  approved  by  the 
club.  His  papers,  according  to  my  recollection,  more  frequently  re- 
lated to  ethical,  or  social,  or  metaphysical  subjects  than  to  those  of 


12  GEORGE  IDE  CHACE. 

natural  science.  It  was  especially  in  these,  and  in  the  free  and 
wide  -  ranging  discussion  of  the  papers  prepared  by  others,  that  he 
showed  not  only  the  extent  and  thoroughness  of  his  knowledge  and 
the  variety  of  his  intellectual  resources,  but  also  the  genial  and  unas- 
suming responsiveness  of  his  social  spirit.  In  the  generous  confidence, 
the  abounding  good  nature,  the  unrestricted  interchange  of  opinions 
and  suggestions  of  every  kind,  both  grave  and  gay,  in  the  sallies  of 
wit,  and  iji  the  high  debate  which  marked  these  meetings  he  took 
great  delight,  and  during  the  sixteen  years  in  which  they  continued  to 
be  held  he  contributed  his  full  share  to  the  rare  intellectual  and  social 
enjoyments  which,  in  the  minds  of  all  its  members,  will  always  be  asso- 
ciated with  our  "  Friday  Evening  Club." 

In  addition  to  what  Professor  Gammell  has  written,  it  is 
worthy  of  note  that  the  foundation  of  the  present  Geological 
Collection  in  the  university  was  laid  by  Professor  Chace.  To 
accomplish  this  he  made  an  extended  tour  in  the  summer  of 
1836,  through  Virginia  and  Kentucky,  accompanied  by  one  of 
his  students.  The  service  rendered  by  Professor  Chace  to  the 
college  by  his  collections  in  this  expedition  was  one  of  great 
value.  So  long  as  he  held  the  chair  of  geology,  he  watched 
over  this  cabinet  with  unflagging  interest,  seeking  to  enrich  it 
by  exchanges,  and  fully  realizing  how  essential  such  collections 
are  to  teacher  and  pupil  alike. 

Between  Professor  Chace  and  his  classes  in  college  from  first 
to  last,  as  will  abundantly  appear  in  this  sketch,  a  relation  of 
peculiar  worth  existed.  It  was  more  than  respect  or  admiration 
for  his  qualities  as  a  teacher.  Though  somewhat  reserved  in 
manner,  yet  his  pupils  never  failed  to  recognize  the  innate  kind- 
liness and  absolute  sincerity  of  his  nature.  They  knew  him  to 
be  genuine  and  true  in  all  his  relations  with  them ;  and  the 
following  tributes  from  some  of  these  who  have  become  emi- 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  13 

nent  in  various  callings,  while  they  fitly  supplement  from  the 
student's  point  of  view  Professor  Gammell's  admirable  sketch, 
only  express  what  all  his  classes  have  gladly  acknowledged. 
The  first  is  from  the  Rev.  George  P.  Fisher,  D.  D.,  LL.  D., 
professor  in  Yale  College  :  — 

In  the  early  part  of  our  college  course  we  did  not  meet  Professor 
Chace  in  the  class-room.  In  the  first  term  of  the  junior  year  we  had 
some  lessons  from  him  in  physiology,  and  in  the  second  term  we  had 
recitations  and  lectures  in  chemistry.  In  the  second  term  of  the  senior 
year  we  recited  to  him  "  Butler's  Analogy."  Before  I  came  into  per- 
sonal contact  with  him  as  an  instructor  I  had  little  direct  acquaintance 
with  him.  Twice  every  day  he  appeared  at  prayers  in  the  chapel,  and 
occasionally,  but  very  unfrequently,  in  the  absence  of  both  Dr.  Way- 
land  and  Dr.  Caswell,  he  may  have  conducted  the  service.  When  he 
met  us  on  our  walks,  he  greeted  us  with  uniform  courtesy,  mingled 
with  a  certain  reserve,  or  appearance  of  reserve.  He  was  regarded,  as 
we  knew,  by  all  the  students  as  a  teacher  of  remarkable  acuteness  and 
logical  ability,  and  as  exacting,  in  the  good  sense  of  the  term.  He  saw 
through  disguises ;  it  was  hard  for  a  student  to  shirk  his  duties  under 
him,  and  his  sharp  cross-examination  laid  bare  the  ignorance,  with  a 
pretense  to  knowledge,  which  is  a  not  uncommon  phenomenon  in  col- 
lege recitations.  It  was  then  the  custom  at  Brown,  as  some  of  us  have 
not  forgotten,  for  the  students  to  be  kept  by  the  rule  in  their  rooms 
during  the  "  study  hours  "  of  the  day  and  evening,  and  for  the  several 
professors  to  call  at  the  doors  to  ascertain  if  the  inmates  were  at  home. 
The  rule  had  begun  to  be  observed  by  the  officers  with  different  de- 
grees of  laxity,  and  was  thus  on  the  road  to  abrogation  ;  but  Professor 
Chace  was  noted  for  the  punctual  or  more  strict  observance  of  it. 
Hence  students  who  chafed  under  this  restriction  sought  rooms  else- 
where than  in  his  division.  But  as  to  his  fairness,  as  well  as  his  civil- 
ity of  manner,  I  never  heard,  then  or  afterwards,  any  dispute  or  com- 
plaint. 


14  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

It  was  the  custom  of  Professors  Caswell  and  Chace  to  select  two 
students  from  the  class  to  assist  them  in  preparing  experiments  for 
their  lectures.  My  classmate,  Weston,  and  myself  were  honored  with 
this  appointment.  We  thus  had  occasion  to  observe  with  what  vigi- 
lance and  painstaking  Professor  Chace  made  ready  for  his  chemical 
lectures.  With  characteristic  caution,  he  would  not  unfrequently  warn 
the  class,  just  before  performing  an  experiment,  that  it  might  not  suc- 
ceed ;  but  we  knew,  and  the  class  found  out,  that  the  experiments 
would  never  fail.  Of  the  attainments  of  Professor  Chace  in  the 
science  of  chemistry  I  am  not  competent  to  speak ;  but  of  his  merits 
as  a  lecturer  in  that  branch  there  can  be  but  one  opinion  among  his 
pupils.  His  order  was  lucid ;  he  did  not  crowd  the  hearer's  mind  with 
minutiae;  he  set  forth  the  main  facts  and  principles  of  the  science 
simply  and  precisely  ;  he  was  fluent  without  being  too  rapid.  In  con- 
ducting recitations,  he  demanded  precision  of  statement,  and  his  whole 
method  of  procedure  had  a  high  disciplinary  value.  In  personal  inter- 
course with  Professor  Chace,  Weston  and  I  met  only  with  kindness ; 
but  it  was  not  until  later  that  I  escaped  from  a  certain  feeling  of  self- 
criticism  from  the  consciousness  of  being  under  the  eye  of  so  keen- 
sighted  a  man,  whose  pitiless  analysis,  we  fancied,  would  detect  any 
of  our  shortcomings  as  surely  as  he  detected  fallacies  of  logic  and  in- 
accuracies of  statement  in  the  class-room.  Subsequently,  as  I  saw  him 
in  his  own  family  and  in  the  more  familiar  intercourse  of  later  years, 
this  peculiar  feeling  vanished.  His  evidently  warm  attachment  to  his 
pupils,  his  relish  for  humor,  and  his  affability  exorcised  the  old  tim- 
idity natural  to  a  boy. 

Professor  Chace  taught  the  seniors  "  Butler's  Analogy."  Here  wc 
met  him  in  another  province  in  which  his  extraordinary  acumen  ap- 
peared to  great  advantage.  He  had  an  innate  taste  for  metaphysics, 
and  a  corresponding  talent.  It  was  a  field  in  which  he  was  adapted 
to  attain  to  very  high  distinction.  The  study  of  Butler  under  such  a 
teacher,  independently  of  the  instruction  derived  from  the  author,  was 
an  admirable  discipline  of  the  intellectual  powers.     Our  teacher,  when 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  15 

he  differed  from  Butler,  or  from  other  authorities,  appeared  to  us  to 
have  at  command  a  weapon  as  sharp  as  a  blade  of  Damascus.  A  be- 
liever in  the  truths  of  religion,  he  was  one  who  imperatively  sought 
and  required  a  rational  basis  for  all  his  opinions.  His  understanding 
was  naturally  skeptical  in  the  sense  that  he  interrogated  whatever 
called  for  credence,  and  was  disposed  to  take  nothing  for  granted.  His 
natural  tendencies,  I  should  say,  were  wholly  averse  to  everything  that 
savored  of  mysticism.  His  temperament,  if  one  may  so  say,  was  scien- 
tific in  its  whole  character.  Tenets  that  offered  themselves  for  accept- 
ance must  exhibit  their  title  to  belief.  Knowledge  must  verify  itself, 
and  define  itself,  and  keep  within  its  exact  boundaries.  His  religious 
character  was  manifest  rather  in  a  steady  self-government  and  in  faith- 
ful obedience  to  the  precepts  of  the  Master  than  in  expressions  of 
emotion. 

But  I  must  leave  it  to  others  to  dwell  on  the  various  excellences  of 
our  honored  friend,  and,  in  particular,  on  the  traits  which  were  spe- 
cially manifest,  and  the  services  rendered  to  the  public,  in  the  closing 
period  of  his  life.  He  deserves  to  be  always  held  in  honor  in  Brown 
University  as  a  very  able  and  faithful  instructor.  In  the  memory  of 
his  pupils  he  will  always  abide  in  a  place  of  honor  and  grateful  esteem. 

President  Angell,  of  the  University  of  Michigan,  gives  similar 
tribute  to  Professor  Chace's  merits  as  an  instructor :  — 

While  I  was  an  under-graduate  in  Brown  University,  Professor 
Chace  at  one  time  or  another  gave  instruction  in  different  branches  of 
mathematics,  in  chemistry,  in  physics,  in  zoology,  in  botany,  in  geol- 
ogy, and  in  "  Butler's  Analogy,"  and  afterwards  in  the  whole  range  of 
philosophic  studies  pursued  in  that  institution.  His  pupils  will,  I  am 
sure,  with  one  accord,  testify  that  he  taught  every  branch  admirably. 
He  had  in  large  measure  the  qualities  of  a  superior  teacher.  His  mind 
was  singularly  acute,  yet  he  never  indulged  in  hair-splitting.  He  had 
remarkable  power  of  clear  and  terse  statement.  No  one  was  left  in 
doubt  concerning  his  meaning.    His  lucid  propositions  were  in  them- 


16  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

selves  almost  demonstrations.  He  untangled  a  difficult  problem  with 
such  simplicity  that  men  disinclined  to  mathematics  learned  to  like 
them  under  his  instruction.  In  illustrating  scientific  teaching  he  was 
very  skillful  as  a  manipulator  and  experimenter.  He  was  one  of  the 
few  men  who  could  talk  well  while  conducting  an  experiment. 

Lucid  and  accurate  himself,  he  insisted  on  clearness  and  exactness 
in  his  pupils.  No  slipshod  work  passed  muster  with  him.  None  of 
the  ingenious  devices  with  which  shiftless  students  strive  to  palm  off 
ignorance,  or  half  -  knowledge,  or  happy  guesses,  for  real  knowledge 
ever  deceived  him.  So  well  was  this  understood  that  no  student  who 
was  not  at  once  very  audacious  and  desperately  hard  pressed  would 
be  so  short  sighted  as  to  attempt  it.  Few  members  of  any  class  which 
passed  through  his  hands  failed  to  have  their  minds  quickened,  if  not 
to  catch  a  positive  inspiration  for  scholarly  work,  from  his  vigor  and 
enthusiasm. 

In  respect  to  style  his  writing  was  of  a  high  order.  It  was  simple 
and  wonderfully  clear.  It  was  compact,  yet  graceful  and  flowing.  At 
times  it  rose  easily  and  naturally  to  fervid  eloquence. 

He  always  seemed  to  me  to  have  an  eminently  scientific  cast  of  mind. 
He  observed  keenly,  he  analyzed  thoroughly,  he  made  the  most  carefid 
inductions,  he  governed  all  his  reasoning  by  the  severest  canons  of 
logic.  Had  not  the  exigencies  of  old-fashioned  college  teaching  com- 
pelled him  to  scatter  his  energies  over  so  many  fields  of  work  ;  had  he 
been  able  to  concentrate  his  efforts  on  some  one  of  the  sciences,  he  must 
have  attained  marked  eminence  in  it.  Yet  probably  his  dominant 
passion  as  a  scholar  was  always  for  philosophic  study,  and  could  he 
have  devoted  himself  to  that  early  in  life  he  would  have  accomplished 
more  than  he  could  have  done  by  an  exclusive  devotion  to  science. 
Still,  either  because  so  much  of  his  life  had  been  given  to  science,  or 
because  he  had  by  nature  so  strong  a  scientific  bent,  he  carried  much 
of  the  scientific  method  into  his  philosophic  work,  as  he  did  into  all 
work.  Perhaps  his  mind  might  be  called  in  the  best  sense  skeptical. 
He  took  nothing  for  granted.     His  premises  must  be  beyond  dispute. 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  17 

Every  step  of  reasoning  must  be  securely  taken.  He  must  have  ra- 
tional grounds  for  his  beliefs.  Therefore  his  conclusions,  when  reached, 
were  strongly  held.  They  were  not  merely  opinions,  but  convictions, 
and  very  positive  convictions. 

The  strength  of  his  convictions,  and  his  weight  of  character,  and  his 
acute  perception  of  the  character  of  others  enabled  him  to  do  easily, 
when  he  turned  from  the  secluded  life  of  a  scholar  to  an  active  partic- 
ipation in  public  duties,  what  was  a  surprise  to  many,  namely,  to  take 
a  leading  place  among  men  of  affairs,  and  to  control  and  guide  them  in 
a  remarkable  degree.  They  speedily  recognized  in  him  a  man  of  clear 
ideas,  of  great  force  and  energy,  of  the  purest  principle,  and  of  sincere 
devotion  to  the  good  of  the  unfortunate  and  the  criminal  classes  which 
the  charitable  and  the  penal  institutions  of  the  State  undertook  to  care 
for.  I  have  always  understood  that  the  Hospital  Boards  and  Board  of 
State  Charities  on  which  he  served  so  faithfully  were  largely  guided 
by  his  counsels  while  he  was  a  member  of  them. 

It  was  perhaps  a  surprise  to  those  who  did  not  know  him  well  that 
he  should  have  given  the  ripest  years  of  his  life  to  charitable  labors, 
which  could  be  requited  only  by  the  consciousness  of  good  done  to 
the  helpless  and  the  wretched.  There  was  in  him  a  certain  shyness 
or  reserve  which  restrained  him  from  revealinsr  himself  to  those  out- 
side  of  a  narrow  circle  of  most  intimate  friends,  and  sometimes  gave  the 
impression  to  others  of  lacking  something  of  that  tenderness  and  sym- 
pathy which  really  dwelt  in  his  heart.  Fortunate  as  Rhode  Island  has 
been  in  finding  men  of  ability  and  character  to  administer  as  a  labor  of 
love  her  charitable  and  penal  institutions,  she  has  had  none  who  have 
given  themselves  for  long  and  toilsome  years  to  that  noble  work  with 
more  unselfish  consideration  and  more  fruitful  results  than  George  I. 
Chace.  In  that  field  too  his  practical  wisdom,  his  scientific  knowledge, 
and  his  philosophic  ability  all  contributed  to  his  success.  His  old  pu- 
pils must  feel  that,  since  the  gratification  was  denied  them  of  seeing 
him,  in  his  fruitful  and  vigorous  old  age,  sitting  in  the  governing  board 
of  the  ancient  university  to  which  he  had  given  a  long  and  useful  life 
2 


18  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

of  toil,  and  which  he  remembered  so  affectionately  in  his  dying  hours, 
no  other  work  could  so  fitly  have  crowned  his  days  as  his  mission  of 
mercy  to  the  insane,  the  sick,  and  the  prisoner.  We  shall  remember 
him  with  affection  and  admiration,  not  only  as  the  teacher,  the  scientist, 
the  philosopher,  but  also  as  the  minister  to  the  sorrowing  and  the  suf- 
fering, the  loving  disciple  of  his  Lord  and  Master. 

Hon.  Edward  L.  Pierce,  of  Boston,  the  biographer  of  Sum- 
ner, has  also  well  depicted  the  impression  left  by  Professor 
Chace  on  the  students  as  a  man  and  a  teacher  :  — 

The  characteristic  of  Professor  Chace  as  an  instructor  which  most 
impressed  me  during  the  years  1846-1850,  in  which  I  was  a  member  of 
his  classes,  was  the  clearness  and  definiteness  of  his  conceptions.  His 
language  was  always  intelligible,  for  the  thought  behind  it  was  exactly 
defined  in  his  own  mind.  A  vague  or  loose  statement  was  foreign  to 
his  intellectual  being.  His  teaching  was  never  obscured  by  a  cloud  of 
words,  and  he  said  only  what  was  needed  to  communicate  his  ideas. 
No  one  who  has  seen  much  of  teachers  can  fail  to  respect  a  faculty  in 
him,  which  is  missing  in  many  men  of  genuine  learning  and  accom- 
plishments. 

As  he  did  his  duty,  he  expected  his  pupils  to  do  theirs.  He  was  not 
disposed  to  pass  lightly  over  the  laziness  and  indifference  of  students 
who  came  unprepared  to  the  class-room,  either  confessing  their  neglect 
of  their  appointed  tasks,  or  trying  to  hide  it  by  a  fluent  recitation. 
To  such,  if  the  occasion  justified,  he  was  apt  to  speak  sharply,  some- 
times with  satire.  If  the  offender  had  in  him  a  substratum  of  charac- 
ter and  purpose,  he  profited  by  the  rebuke.  We  venerate,  when  our 
powers  are  put  to  the  test  in  the  strain  of  active  life,  not  the  teachers 
who  overlooked  our  shortcomings,  but  those  only  who  taught  us  how  to 
think  and  how  to  work,  and  who  helped  to  give  us  character  and 
brains. 

Professor  Chace  was  social  and  friendly,  more  so  than  one  might 
think  from  his  manner  and  presence,  and  he  followed  with  interest  the 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  19 

fortunes  of  the  men  he  had  taught.  I  recall  the  excursion  to  Cum- 
berland and  vicinity,  taken  annually  by  the  class  in  geology,  in  which 
he  explained  rare  specimens  gathered  from  the  mines,  —  the  day  clos- 
ing with  an  entertainment  at  his  house,  where  host  and  hostess  alike 
had  good  words  for  each  and  all  of  us. 

It  is  rare  that  one  has  combined  such  various  gifts,  such  a  compre- 
hensive intelligence,  as  distinguished  our  professor,  equally  at  home  as 
he  was  in  the  exact  sciences  and  in  that  larger  field  in  which  philoso- 
pher and  teacher  "  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  man."  Pascal  and 
Leibnitz  easily  attained  this  distinction  ;  but  it  is  shared  by  few,  and 
the  world  questions  the  pretensions  of  all  who  undertake  speculations 
in  departments  not  closely  related  to  each  other.  Est  mos  Tiominum 
ut  nolint  eundem  plurihus  rebus  excellere. 

I  have  often  thought  what  rare  endowments  were  united  in  Professor 
Chace,  and  how  well  placed  he  would  have  been  at  the  head  of  one  of 
the  modern  technical  schools,  to  which  he  would  have  brought  not  only 
an  accurate  knowledge  of  the  sciences,  but  also  practical  sense  and  the 
large-mindedness  of  one  interested  in  all  concerns  of  patriotism  and 
humanity.  We  may  regret  that  he  has  left  no  permanent  memorial  in 
any  treatise  upon  the  subjects  which  he  taught,  and  that  others  can 
never  know  him  as  his  pupils  have  known  him.  But  this  is  only  the 
common  lot.  The  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away ;  and  even  the 
author  who  has  put  his  life's  work  into  a  book  soon  finds,  in  the  quick 
transitions  of  thought  and  discovery,  that  he  must  give  place  to  others 
who  have  profited  by  his  labors  and  investigations.  But  our  professor 
will  at  least  always  live  in  the  character  and  work  of  the  pupils  he 
served  so  well.  For  myself,  his  personality  as  teacher  and  friend  has 
been  a  grateful  memory  during  the  long  interval  of  more  than  thirty- 
five  years  since  I  left  the  college,  and  will  remain  such  until  I  follow 
him. 

These  tributes  give  fit  expression  to  the  sentiments  which 
forty  classes  in  the  college  have  cherished  of  his  work  in  the 
class-room.     They  are  no  blind  enthusiasm  for   an  instructor 


20  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

popular  by  reason  of  other  qualities  than  the  solid  merits  of 
learning  and  aptness  to  teach.  They  record  in  well-considered 
phrase  the  delightful  memories  of  an  instructor  who  had  a  gift 
for  teaching  of  high  and  uncommon  order,  and  record  also  the 
fact  that  in  Professor  Chace  the  college  had  an  illustration 
of  the  truth  that  in  all  instruction,  taken  at  its  largest  and 
best,  it  is  the  character  behind  the  teachings  that  is  the  most 
efficient  educating  force. 

In  the  interval  between  the  presidency  of  Dr.  Barnas  Sears 
and  that  of  his  successor,  Dr.  Alexis  Caswell,  Professor  Chace 
was  appointed  president  ad  interi7n,  holding  office  for  the  year 
1866-67.  This  appointment  involved  a  change  in  his  depart- 
ment of  instruction  from  his  old  professorship  in  science  to 
that  of  the  chair  of  moral  and  intellectual  philosophy.  It  was 
not  without  a  pang  that  he  severed  his  connection  with  the  sci- 
entific department  of  the  college,  in  which  he  had  wrought  for 
so  many  years.  No  more  enthusiastic  devotee  of  science  ever 
labored  in  her  fields.  But,  as  will  be  seen.  Professor  Chace  had 
exceptional  fitness  for  his  new  duties  as  teacher  of  moral  and 
intellectual  philosophy,  and  fulfilled  them  with  the  most  grati- 
fying success  to  his  classes  and  the  friends  of  the  institution. 
To  the  work  thus  intrusted  to  him  he  brought  qualities  which 
assured  its  complete  and  happy  achievement.  He  had  from 
the  beginning  of  his  career  as  professor  in  the  college  enjoyed 
the  confidence  and  esteem  of  his  pupils,  as  a  man.  He  had 
won  their  admiration  as  a  teacher.  The  dignified  courtesy 
which  in  his  recitation  or  lecture  room  governed  his  classes 
so  admirably  proved  equally  efficient  and  equally  attractive  in 
this  new  relation.  The  extraordinary  executive  abilities  which 
marked  his  later  career  in  connection  with  public  trusts  were 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  21 

at  once  brought  into  notice.  No  detail  escaped  his  observa- 
tion. He  was  a  wise  disciplinarian.  The  college  work  moved 
on  without  friction,  and  the  order  of  the  institution  improved 
steadily  and  visibly  under  his  care.  A  touching  reminder  of 
his  painstaking  fidelity  in  the  fulfillment  of  every  of&cial  duty 
has  since  his  death  been  found  in  the  carefuUy  written  prayers 
by  which  he  prepared  himself  to  conduct  the  chapel  exercises. 
They  are  models  of  what  such  prayers  should  be.  They  were 
noted  by  the  students  for  their  appropriateness  and  fervor,  and 
gave  to  the  chapel  services  a  deeply  reverent  but  also  a  warmly 
spiritual  tone. 

At  the  close  of  the  period,  and  when,  as  it  appears,  the  col- 
lege had  been  brought  safely  and  prosperously  through  a  crisis 
in  its  history.  Professor  Chace  was  rewarded  by  the  most  grati- 
fying testimonies  to  the  success  of  his  administration.  They 
reached  him  in  resolutions  by  the  corporation  and  by  the  fac- 
ulty of  the  university.  The  city  journals  uttered  in  the  public 
ear  the  same  strains  of  commendation.  That  he  had  given 
proof  of  eminent  fitness  for  the  position  there  could  be  no 
doubt.  Had  the  corporation  appointed  him  president,  there  is 
every  reason  to  believe  he  would  have  administered  the  trust 
with  signal  efficiency.  The  traditions  of  the  college,  traditions 
which  are  deserving  all  respect,  seemed  to  require  that  the  in- 
cumbent should  be  a  clergyman. 

The  resolutions  adopted  by  the  faculty  and  the  corporation 
are  here  given,  as  perhaps  best  embodying  the  results  and  suc- 
cesses of  his  temporary  administration  :  — 

At  a  meeting  of  the  faculty  held  this  day  the  following  resolutions 
were  unanimously  adopted : 

Whereas,  during  the  first  term  of  the  present  year  the  duties  of 


22  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

president  and  of  professor  of  moral  and  intellectual  philosophy  were 
performed  ad  interim  by  Professor  George  Ide  Chace,  LL.  D. :  — 

Hesolved,  that  Professor  Chace,  in  consenting  to  undertake  these 
duties  at  a  crisis  of  peculiar  peril  in  the  history  of  the  university  and 
under  circumstances  involving  unusual  anxiety  and  labor,  has  fur- 
nished additional  proof  of  his  disinterested  zeal  for  the  highest  inter- 
ests of  the  institution  of  which  he  has  been  so  long  a  distinguished 
ornament. 

Hesolved^  that  the  faculty  hereby  express  their  appreciation  of  the 
eminent  ability  and  success  with  which  these  important  duties  have 
been  performed,  and  their  sense  of  the  signal  service  which  Professor 
Chace  has  rendered  to  the  university  by  his  judicious  and  dignified 
administration  of  its  affairs. 

Resolved^  that  the  foregoing  be  entered  upon  our  records,  and  that 
a  copy  be  presented  to  Professor  Chace. 

A.  Harkness,  Secretary. 

Brown  University,  February  25,  1868. 

Providence  February  11, 1868. 

Dear  Sir,  —  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  send  you  the  following  votes 
of  the  corporation  of  Brown  University  at  the  meeting  on  the  7th  in- 
stant :  — - 

"  Voted,  that  the  thanks  of  this  corporation  be  rendered  to  George 
I.  Chace,  President  ad  interim,  for  his  important  and  satisfactory  re- 
port of  the  condition  of  the  university  under  his  administration  at  the 
present  time,  and  for  his  recommendations  for  its  future  improvement, 
and  that  the  secretary  communicate  this  vote  to  him. 

"  Voted,  that  the  report  of  George  I.  Chace,  President  ad  interim, 
made  to  the  corporation  at  the  present  meeting,  be  referred  to  a  com- 
mittee, to  consider  the  same,  and  to  report  at  the  next  meeting  of  the 
corporation,  —  a  course  advisable  to  be  adopted  to  carry  into  effect  the 
improvements  therein  suggested,  and  any  others  in  their  opinion  de- 
sirable and  practicable." 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE  23 

In  accordance  with  the  above  vote  the  following  committee  was  ap- 
pointed :  Messrs.  Caswell,  Kingsbury,  Caldwell,  Woods,  of  the  Fel- 
lows ;  Messrs.  W.  S.  Patten,  Ives,  Hague,  S.  G.  Arnold,  Woods,  Lin- 
coln, Trustees. 

Allow  me  the  return  of  the  report  at  your  earliest  convenience,  as 
it  is  deemed  desirable  to  copy  it  on  our  records.         Yours  truly, 

John  Kingsbuby,  Secretary  C.  B.  U. 
George  I.  Chace,  LL.  D. 

On  the  accession  of  Dr.  CasweU  to  the  presidency  of  the 
college,  Professor  Chace's  labors  were  entirely  devoted  to  the 
new  department  of  moral  and  intellectual  philosophy,  which  he 
had  assumed  the  previous  year,  and  in  which  he  at  once  reached 
honorable  distinction.  This  was  a  matter  of  no  surprise  to 
those  who  knew  his  fondness  for  philosophical  studies,  espe- 
cially as  these  are  connected  with  natural  theology,  and  who  had 
been  acquainted  with  his  contributions  to  our  periodical  litera- 
ture discussing  such  themes.  They  show  the  qualities  which  a 
successful  teacher  in  this  department  of  study  must  have  at 
command.  In  his  memorial  sermon.  Rev.  Dr.  Thayer  has  given 
a  just  estimate  of  Professor  Chace's  fitness  for  the  chair  of 
moral  and  intellectual  philosophy  :  — 

He  was  a  careful  student  of  the  relations  between  mind  and  matter, 
and  of  the  mysterious  analogies  through  which  they  reflect  light  one  on 
the  other.  The  results  of  these  studies  he  frequently  gave  to  special 
companies  of  students  who  met  for  this  purpose,  and  thus  he  unfolded 
the  essential  items  of  natural  theology  and  the  argument  for  immor- 
tality. So  far,  indeed,  from  his  physical  studies  having  absorbed  his 
capacity  for  psychological  inquiries  or  dulled  his  sensibilities  to  their 
finest  distinctions,  his  earlier  direction  of  thought  seemed  rather  to 
have  rendered  his  mental  vision  in  the  sphere  of  intellectual  and  moral 
philosophy  more  acute,  and  to  have  disciplined  to  severer  limitations 


24  GEORGE  IDE  CHACE. 

his  use  of  analogical  reasoning.  .  .  .  Many  who  hear  me  will  testify 
to  the  thoroughness  of  his  instructions,  and  to  the  opinions  they  then 
formed  of  his  power  to  impress  on  other  minds  the  great  truths  of 
Christian  ethics.  To  some,  indeed,  who  have  known  little  of  Professor 
Chace  as  a  scientific  man,  but  who  in  these  last  years  have  been  some- 
what familiar  with  his  treatment  of  metaphysical  subjects,  it  is  a  ques- 
tion if  metaphysical  acumen  was  not  his  chief  characteristic,  and  his 
last  department  was  not  best  fitted  to  call  out  his  highest  powers. 

Professor  Andrews,  now  filling  the  chair  of  history  and  po- 
litical economy  in  Brown  University,  and  a  former  pupil  of 
Professor  Chace's  in  these  studies,  has  kindly  furnished  the  ac- 
companying statement  as  to  his  methods  of  teaching,  its  range 
and  its  success,  which  illustrates  and  confirms  what  Dr.  Thayer 
has  so  well  said :  — 

Professor  Dunn's  death  and  Dr.  Sears's  resignation  in  the  summer 
of  1867  vacated,  besides  the  presidency,  two  most  important  profes- 
sorships. Who  was  to  succeed  to  the  open  places  became  a  serious 
question,  which  students  asked  with  no  less  anxiety  than  those  who 
were  responsible  for  the  answer.  The  more  thoughtful  and  advanced 
of  them  naturally  felt  special  solicitude  respecting  the  instruction  in 
philosophy.  Professor  Chace's  reputation  for  ability  and  for  the  mas- 
tery of  his  chosen  department  may  have  been  as  high  outside  college 
as  within,  but  few  others  knew  so  well  as  those  in  college  who  had 
already  been  his  pupils  the  extraordinary  range  of  his  acquirements  or 
his  incomparable  excellence  as  a  teacher.  To  them,  therefore,  the  more 
since  they  could  not  appreciate  the  peculiar  difficulties  of  the  new  de- 
partment, his  transfer  to  the  chair  of  philosophy  gave  the  utmost  satis- 
faction. As  class  after  class  reached  the  senior  year,  this  rose  to  en- 
thusiasm. 

The  five  classes  instructed  by  Professor  Chace  in  philosophy  will 
never  be  able  to  avoid  regarding  his  work  during  those  years  as  the 
clearest  of  his  many  titles  to  grateful  remembrance  by  the  college.     It 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  25 

seems  impossible  that  he  should  ever  have  taught  any  other  subject 
with  equal  triumph.  He  unfolded  puzzling  conceptions  in  psychology 
and  followed  out  the  finest  metaphysical  distinctions,  apparently  with 
as  complete  ease  and  thoroughness  as  if  his  work  had  always  lain  in 
this  field.  And  it  is  doubtless  true  that  no  one  of  the  matters  which 
his  change  of  employment  called  him  to  canvass  was  new  to  him. 

Of  what,  as  a  student,  he  had  learned  from  President  Wayland, 
whom  he  warmly  admired  and  revered,  he  had  evidently  forgotten 
nothing,  although  tradition  has  it  that  he  never  took  notes  in  class.  I 
chance  to  possess  an  item  of  evidence  regarding  his  proficiency  in  phi- 
losophy when  an  under-graduate,  which  has  not  hitherto  been  made 
public.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Babcock,  at  that  time  president  of  Waterville 
College,  once  related  to  me  that,  being  present  at  Dr.  Wayland's  exam- 
ination in  Professor  Chace's  senior  year  in  college,  he  was  led  by  the 
young  gentleman's  brilliant  answers  to  ask  him  some  quite  difficult 
questions  considerably  aside  from  the  topic  assigned.  Chace  hesitating 
a  little  over  one  of  these,  Wayland  leaned  toward  Babcock  and  whis- 
pered, "  Push  him,  push  him ;  he  '11  stand  it."  Stand  it  he  did,  giving, 
after  an  instant's  reflection,  the  correct  reply.  Similarly  in  all  the 
subsequent  years,  his  thinking  must  have  taken  a  far  wider  sweep  than 
his  immediate  tasks  exacted. 

Such,  for  instance,  was  his  cast  of  mind  that  all  his  investigations  in 
science  were  at  the  same  time  studies  in  natural  theology.  He  had 
become  a  master  in  this,  and  his  handling  of  the  argument  from  design 
and  his  whole  exhibition  of  the  telic  structure  of  the  universe  were 
veritably  peerless.  In  enforcing  truths  of  this  sort  he  made  constant 
and  minute  reference  to  the  eye  and  other  parts  of  the  human  frame, 
where  his  critical  knowledge  of  physiology  did  him  admirable  service. 
Not  an  exercise  with  his  class  passed  wherein  he  did  not  greatly  enrich 
his  philosophical  instruction  by  precious  bits  of  fact,  method,  or  insight 
from  the  domain,  so  familiar  to  him,  of  the  physical  sciences. 

Professor  Chace's  wide  researches  in  other  directions  had  somewhat 
limited  the  amount  of  reading:  which  he  would  have  been  glad  to  do  in 


26  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

the  earlier  history  of  philosophy,  but  in  the  discussions  of  the  philo- 
sophical world  which  were  current  in  his  time  he  was  certainly  at  home. 
He  was  well  acquainted,  in  fact,  with  modern  English  philosophy 
entire,  from  Locke,  whose  system,  as  usual  then  and  even  still  in 
American  colleges,  formed  the  point  of  departure  for  his  course  of  in- 
struction in  this  branch,  through  Berkeley,  Hume,  Reid,  and  Stewart, 
to  Hamilton  and  Mill.  To  the  French  development  of  Locke,  or  the 
still  more  important  one  by  Kant  in  Germany,  he  paid  little  attention, 
herein  again  following  the  custom  of  American  colleges.  Well  do  I 
remember,  among  much  else,  his  clear  account  and  searching  criticism 
of  Positivism,  and  how  plain  he  made  the  logical  path  from  Locke 
through  Berkeley  to  Hume.  Not  less  striking  was  the  concise  rSsum^ 
he  used  to  give  of  the  various  forms  which  Pantheism  has  taken  in  the 
history  of  thought.  He  loved  to  dwell  upon  the  causal  judgment,  and 
to  point  out  its  significance  for  philosophy  and  theology  ;  and  he  never 
tired  of  explaining  the  fatal  consequences  of  accepting  Hamilton's  doc- 
trine upon  this  point.  He  was  no  believer  in  Idealism,  but  had  pro- 
found regard  for  Berkeley,  and  was  wont  to  insist  that  Berkeley's  views 
should  not  be  misunderstood.  The  professor  had  interesting  and  orig- 
inal ideas  of  the  "  art  process,"  as  he  called  it ;  and  this,  so  far  as  I 
can  remember,  was  the  only  subject  upon  which  his  conclusions  were 
exactly  the  reverse  of  Wayland's.  Free-will,  where  he  showed  famil- 
iarity with  Edwards,  the  nature  of  miracle,  the  mode  of  the  soul's 
cognition  of  its  body,  —  point  of  his  chief  difference  with  President 
Porter,  —  are  specimens  of  the  themes  with  which  that  rare  mind  and 
trained  tongue  engaged  the  interested  attention  of  college  students. 

In  ethics  it  was  Professor  Chace's  dearest  conviction,  underlying  all 
his  teaching,  never  to  be  forgotten  by  any  of  his  pupils,  that  right  is 
eternal,  not  proceeding  from  will,  but  of  the  nature  of  law  to  all  will, 
even  God's.  As  little  can  his  unvarying  reverence,  his  earnest  spirit 
in  treating  ethical  problems,  or  his  lucid  and  sensible  views  upon  vexing 
questions  in  casuistry  ever  pass  from  our  memories. 

Professor  Chace  had  the  keenest  analytic  power  of  any  thinker  whom 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  27 

I  have  ever  heard  discourse  ;  and,  what  is  very  rare  indeed,  he  joined 
with  this  a  hardly  less  remarkable  faculty  for  generalization,  which 
enabled  him,  on  grasping  the  salient  notions  of  a  philosophical  system, 
to  think  his  way  rapidly  to  its  remotest  deductions  with  but  a  fraction 
of  the  reading  which  many  another  scholar  would  have  required.  A 
consequence,  a  very  part  rather,  of  this  his  gift  at  generalizing,  was  his 
genius  for  bearing  in  mind  and  setting  forth  all  the  relevant  aspects  of 
whatever  subject  he  undertook  to  expound,  in  their  proper  and  natural 
relations,  so  as  to  produce  a  symmetrical  and  truthful  impression.  In 
proportion,  therefore,  in  its  relative  emphasis  of  points,  dwelling  only 
upon  essentials  and  passing  the  rest  with  a  glance,  his  teaching  was 
about  faultless.  And  touching  these  essentials,  nothing  short  of  ab- 
solute mastery  by  pupils  would  satisfy  him.  That  a  recitation  repro- 
duced the  lecture  signified  little ;  the  student  was  held  to  a  careful 
original  explanation  of  every  topic.  Essays  were  assigned,  yet  without 
references  to  authorities,  every  artifice  being  employed  to  compel  in  the 
young  men  power,  independence,  and  clearness  of  thought.  The  class- 
room discussions  and  criticisms  were  meant  to  stimulate  these  qualities. 
All  those  of  us  who  sat  at  his  feet  in  philosophy  will  remember  to 
our  instructor's  perpetual  praise  that  he  entertained  such  a  theory  as 
he  did  of  the  aim  of  college  instruction,  —  a  theory  which  few  now 
seem  to  cherish.  I  mean  that  he  taught  for  the  sake  of  his  pupils,  to 
build  intellect  and  character,  rather  than  for  the  sake  of  the  subject. 
His  first  care  was  to  train  the  mind ;  filling  it  he  thought  important,  but 
subordinate.  Poise,  strength,  and  consistency  in  mental  work  resulted. 
Able  students  felt  so  sure  of  the  ground  they  had  traversed  —  this  is 
so  far,  indeed,  a  just  criticism  of  the  method  —  that  they  were  left  too 
little  conscious  how  much,  after  all,  they  had  not  learned.  There  was 
moral  quickening  as  well  as  intellectual,  continual  pungent  reminders 
of  the  supremacy  of  moral  law,  of  the  reasonableness  and  worth  of  re- 
ligion. Pupils  awoke  to  their  powers  and  their  duties.  Not  few  are 
the  successful  men  now  in  society's  busiest  places  who  received  in 
Professor  Chace's  lecture-room  their  first  inspiring   consciousness  of 


28  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

vocation,  their  earliest  permanent  and  decisive  ambitions.  In  fact, 
there  are  none,  I  believe,  who  studied  philosophy  under  him  but  look 
back  to  that  golden  year  as  intellectually  and  morally  the  central  epoch 
of  their  lives. 

The  professor's  expositions,  whatever  the  subject,  were  clothed  in 
language  the  most  choice  and  exact,  often  elegant,  not  rarely  eloquent, 
the  more  remarkable  from  his  long  association  with  material  science, 
and  from  the  fact  that  he  had  always  been  more  thinker  than  reader. 
His  references  to  literature  were  few,  but  felicitous.  Many  will  recall 
his  apt  quotation  from  Virgil  in  his  charming  and  spirited  address  to 
General  Sheridan,  upon  that  gentleman's  memorable  visit  to  the  col- 
lege, I  think,  in  1868.  His  knowledge  of  Scripture  was  copious  and 
precise,  and  the  rich  beauties  therefrom,  in  which  his  chapel  prayers 
abounded,  made  listening  to  these  a  constant  pleasure  and  surprise. 

For  five  years  Professor  Chace  continued  to  hold  this  position. 
His  power  in  the  department  grew  steadily.  Though  at  times 
he  longed  for  the  old  familiar  paths  of  science  which  he  loved  so 
well  to  tread,  yet  he  could  not  have  failed  to  see  that  at  no  time 
during  the  long  period  of  his  connection  with  the  college  was 
his  influence  over  the  students  intellectually  and  morally  greater 
than  during  his  five  years  of  work  in  the  chair  of  moral  and  in- 
tellectual philosophy.  Striking  and  gratifying  tokens  of  this 
are  seen  in  a  petition  and  an  address  from  the  class  of  1872 
here  given.  And  when  at  length  the  projected  departure  for 
foreign  shores  took  place,  the  class  went  in  a  body  to  the  sta- 
tion, and  bade  him  with  cordial  and  affectionate  greetings  a 
God-speed  on  his  voyage. 

PETITION   OF  CLASS   OF  1872. 

To  OUR  Respected  and  Beloved  Professor  George  I.  Chace  : 

Realizing  the  invaluable  character  of  the  instruction  which  we  have 
received  from  you,  and  cherishing  at  the  same  time  feelings  of  warm 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  29 

personal  attachment,  which  the  relations  of  the  past  year  have  devel- 
oped, we  learn  mth  deep  regret  that  your  connection  with  our  college 
is  so  soon  to  cease.  Your  instruction  cannot,  we  feel,  be  replaced  to 
us :  still  less  can  be  filled  the  place  which  you  occupy  within  our  hearts. 
We  desire,  therefore,  as  a  class,  to  return  to  you  our  heartfelt  thanks 
for  the  past ;  and  while  expressing  our  preference  for  your  instruction 
over  that  of  any  one  who  might  succeed  you,  we  sincerely  hope  that  it 
may  be  within  your  power  to  complete  our  course  of  instruction  in 
moral  philosophy,  when  we  shall  consider  it  our  honor  to  leave  the 
university  with  you.  [Signed  by  the  class.] 

To  Professor  George  I.  Chace,  LL.  D.  : 

Respected  Sir,  —  A  few  months  since  we  learned  with  much  regret 
that  you  were  about  to  resign  your  professorship  in  the  university. 
We  therefore  took  the  liberty  to  express  to  you  our  earnest  hope  that 
you  would  delay  your  departure  at  least  till  we  had  completed  the 
studies  which  we  had  already  so  happily  begun  under  your  guidance. 
We  do  not  imagine  that  your  plans  were  changed  in  consequence  of 
our  solicitation  alone ;  yet  we  feel  that  we  are  greatly  indebted  to  you 
for  having  continued  to  us  the  benefit  of  your  instruction  during  the 
remaining  term  of  our  college  course.  Had  you  left  us  then  it  would 
have  occasioned  us  a  great  disappointment.  That  you  have  remained 
to  the  present  time  has  afforded  us  a  corresponding  satisfaction  and 
pleasure.  During  the  past  year  and  a  half  you  have  conducted  us 
through  some  of  the  most  interesting  and  important  departments  of 
Science,  both  material  and  spiritual,  and  have  taught  us  lessons  of  price- 
less value  relating  both  to  the  present  life  and  to  that  which  is  to  come. 
We  shall  always  cherish  these  instructions  as  among  the  best  treasures 
of  our  college  education,  and  we  shall  aim  to  guide  our  lives  in  accord- 
ance with  the  precepts  and  standards  which  you  have  placed  before  us. 
For  all  these  and  for  the  daily  interest  and  care  which  you  have  be- 
stowed upon  us,  we  beg  you  to  accept  our  heartfelt  gratitude. 

We  are  to  be  the  last  in  the  series  of  classes  which  have  gone  forth 


30  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

from  the  university  bearing  the  impress  of  your  instructions,  and  your 
departure  is  to  be  coincident  with  our  own.  In  recognition  of  this  co- 
incidence and  as  a  testimonial  of  the  sentiments  we  cherish,  suffer  us 
to  present  to  you  this  simple  record,  signed  with  the  name  of  every 
member  of  the  class.  It  is  designed  to  express  to  you  our  individual 
respect  and  esteem,  our  high  appreciation  as  a  class  of  the  instructions 
which  you  have  given  us,  and  our  sincere  good  wishes  for  the  prosper- 
ity of  your  journey  and  for  your  health  and  happiness  during  many 
years  to  come. 

In  taking  leave  of  you  we  subscribe  ourselves,  very  respectfully, 

Your  Pupils  and  Friends. 

The  university  also,  through  its  corporation,  gave  expression 
to  its  earnest  desire  for. the  retention  of  Professor  Cliace  among 
its  faculty,  as  the  following  resolutions  will  show.  In  this  ac- 
tion of  the  college  authorities  were  embodied  the  views  and 
feelings  of  the  alumni  of  the  institution.  He  closed  his  career 
as  professor  brilliantly,  and  amid  general  regrets  that  it  was 

to  terminate. 

Providence,  January  24, 1872. 
Professor  George  I.  Chace,  LL.  D.  : 

Dear  Sir,  —  At  a  meeting  of  the  corporation  of  Brown  University, 
held  to-day  in  Rhode  Island  Hall,  the  undersigned  were  appointed  by 
the  corporation  to  convey  to  you  the  following  resolutions,  namely  :  — 

"  JResolved,  that  this  corporation  tender  Professor  George  I.  Chace 
their  unanimous  thanks  for  his  services  as  professor  of  intellectual  and 
moral  philosophy,  and  their  unanimous  request  that  he  continue  to 
render  the  same  service  during  the  present  collegiate  year. 

"  Resolved,  that  this  corporation  take  the  present  occasion  to  ex- 
press to  Professor  George  I.  Chace  their  unanimous  desire  that  the  rela- 
tion which  he  has  for  so  many  years  sustained  to  the  university,  as  one 
of  the  instructors  therein,  may  be  continued  in  future  years  in  such  de- 
partment and  to  such  an  extent  as  may  be  acceptable  to  himself  and 
the  corporation." 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  31 

Permit  us,  dear  sir,  to  add  for  ourselves  an  expression  of  our  grati- 
tude for  the  eminent  service  which  you  have  rendered  the  university, 
and  of  an  earnest  hope  that  you  will  comply  with  the  unanimous  re- 
quest of  tho  corporation  ;  for  we  are  confident  that  you  will  thus  con- 
fer a  lasting  benefit  on  the  young  men  who  enjoy  your  instruction,  and 
a  further  honor  on  the  university  which  you  have  loved,  and  have  done 
so  much  to  render  justly  famous  in  the  land.  AVith  sentiments  of  cor- 
dial esteem  and  friendship  we  are,     Truly  yours, 

Alvah  Hovey, 
C.  S.  Bradley, 
Thatcher  Thayer. 

But  in  the  fullness  of  his  strength,  and  with  these  tokens  of 
hearty  appreciation  of  his  pupils,  colleagues,  and  the  public. 
Professor  Chace  decided  on  retirement  from  the  institution  he 
had  served  for  forty-one  years  with  unremitting  vigor.  It  was 
no  sudden  impulse,  no  hasty  plan.  Five  years  earlier  he  had 
written  his  sister,  to  whom  through  life  he  was  tenderly  at- 
tached :  "  I  prefer  to  close  my  professional  career  while  I  am  in 
full  strength  and  vigor,  and  while  I  still  have  freshness  of  in- 
terests enough  to  find  other  occupations  attractive." 

During  the  years  1872-73  he  sought  these  new  interests  in 
foreign  travel.  In  company  with  Mrs.  Chace  he  visited  Europe, 
Greece,  and  Egypt.  He  had  projected  also  travel  in  the  Holy 
Land,  but  was  obliged  to  forego  this  part  of  his  tour.  He 
sought  the  shores  of  the  Old  World,  not  so  much  for  rest  as  for 
the  culture  to  be  gained  by  travel.  He  had  been  deeply  inter- 
ested in  the  study  of  history  as  it  disclosed  a  plan  of  God  for 
human  advancement.  He  loved,  like  Bunsen,  to  trace  the  foot- 
steps of  God  in  history.  Hence  his  desire  to  see  for  himself  the 
great  civilizations  of  the  Old  World ;  to  be  brought  in  contact 
with  older  races;  to  survey  for  himself  the  wrecks  of  the  storied 


32  GEORGE  IDE    CHACE. 

past.  Art  in  great  paintings  or  sculptures  had  for  him  less  inter- 
est than  masterpieces  in  literature  or  the  growths  of  nature.  He 
soon  wearied  of  the  picture-galleries.  But  his  delight  knew  no 
bounds  when  he  found  himself  among  the  Alps.  His  studies 
in  geology  had  perhaps  something  to  do  with  this.  He  had 
seen  the  grandest  of  our  own  scenery  on  the  Pacific  coast.  But 
amid  the  stupendous  movements  of  nature  as  the  Alpine  scen- 
ery discloses  them,  his  mind  and  heart  were  stirred  to  un- 
wonted enthusiasm.  He  looked  on  them  less  from  the  scientific 
point  of  view  than  from  the  aesthetic  or  moral.  Mrs.  Agas- 
siz,  in  the  memoir  of  her  husband,  lately  published,  has  said 
that  the  key-note  of  all  his  scientific  investigations  was  belief 
in  the  existence  of  a  Creator.  Through  all  Professor  Chace's 
life,  this  runs  as  a  golden  thread.  It  is  best  expressed  by  him- 
self in  this  extract  from  an  address  to  one  of  the  college 
classes  on  the  occasion  of  a  Class  Day  celebration  :  — 

But  I  must  not  dwell  upon  our  companionship,  however  pleasant  it 
has  been  to  me,  as  we  have  ranged  together  over  so  wide  and  so  diverse 
fields  of  the  great  domain  of  nature.  I  trust  that  we  have  gathered 
some  fruit.  I  trust  that  our  souls  have  been  nourished  as  well  as  our 
understandings  informed.  I  trust  that  nature  has  lost  none  of  her 
mystery  or  beauty  while  we  have  analyzed  her  phenomena  and  sub- 
jected them  to  the  dominion  of  law.  Nay,  has  she  not  revealed  to  us  a 
profounder  mystery.  Have  we  not  discerned  in  her  a  higher  beauty, 
—  a  beauty  of  mind,  of  thought,  of  soul,  of  which  her  outward  forms 
and  phases  are  but  the  dim  reflections  ?  I  envy  no  man  that  philoso- 
phy which  would  limit  our  knowledge  to  the  feeble  grasp  of  the  senses, 
would  divorce  from  the  universe  mind,  and  see  in  its  regulated  and  or- 
derly changes  only  the  operation  of  material  forces  and  laws.  Better 
abandon  at  once  all  philosophy  and  all  science.  Better  the  rehabilita- 
tion in  nature  of  her  ancient  divinities,  —  better  for  head,  better  for 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  33 

heart,  better  for  soul.  Better  that  Apollo  should  again  curb  with  his 
strong  arm  the  fiery  steeds  of  the  sun,  the  swift-footed  hours  dancing 
in  faithful  attendance  around  his  flying  car ;  better  that  Neptune 
should  traverse  once  more  the  ocean  in  his  dolphin-drawn  chariot,  rul- 
ing by  his  trident  the  waves,  with  a  huge  train  of  gamboling  monsters 
in  his  wake  ;  better  that  the  forest  should  be  still  peopled  by  dryads, 
and  every  river  and  brook  and  fountain  have  its  naiad ;  better  that 
the  features  of  a  god  should  look  out  from  every  knoll  and  rock  and 
tree,  than  that  a  blank,  dead  atheism  should  spread  over  and  impall 
nature. 

But  I  need  not  say  to  you  that  such  are  not  the  teachings  of  true 
science.  It  is  only  philosophy^,  falsely  so  called,  that  conducts  to  con- 
clusions so  disastrous  to  our  whole  natures  and  to  every  interest  of 
human  society.  Science  genuine  and  profound,  and  in  proportion  as 
it  is  genuine  and  profound,  will  ever  be  found  the  assistant  and  hand- 
maid of  religion,  the  interpreter  of  the  divine  thought,  and  the  revealer 
of  the  divine  will  in  nature.  It  discloses  in  the  outward  material 
world  a  breadth  of  plan,  a  comprehensiveness  of  design,  a  grandeur  of 
movement,  and  a  sublimity  of  purpose  in  comparison  with  which  the 
loftiest  conceptions  of  divinity  attained  by  classic  antiquity  are  but 
the  feeble  imaginings  of  sick  men  or  the  puerile  fancies  of  children. 
Imparting  to  the  universe  something  of  its  real  magnitude  and  propor- 
tions, it  converts  that  universe  into  a  vast  temple  everywhere  irradiated 
by  the  power  and  the  presence  of  God,  and  makes  life  to  a  devout  man 
one  continued  act  of  worship. 

Next,  however,  to  the  grandeurs  of  Alpine  scenery  what  inter- 
ested him  most  deeply  was  Egypt  and  Egyptology.  The  land 
of  the  Pharaohs  was  to  him  fuller  of  interest  than  any  spot  he 
visited.  It  fascinated  him  as  it  has  fascinated  so  many  other 
thoughtful  minds.  He  never  wearied  of  visiting  the  Museum 
of  Antiquities  at  Cairo.     He  spent  hours  each  day,  during  a 

protracted  stay  in  the  ancient  city,  in  studying  its  treasures. 
3 


34  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

And  it  was  mainly  the  religious  element  in  that  old  civilization 
which  delighted  and  engrossed  him.  The  interest  of  a  Chris- 
tian philosopher  in  Egyptology,  springing  from  investigations 
in  comparative  religion,  drew  him  more  and  more  closely  to  the 
strange  Egyptian  mythology.  It  seemed  to  him  to  have  imbed- 
ded in  itself  so  lofty  and  so  spiritual  teachings  as  to  create  a 
profound  and  serious  problem.  He  could  not  dismiss  it  as  sheer 
and  utter  paganism.  On  his  return,  he  prepared  and  read  be- 
fore the  Friday  Evening  Club  in  Providence  a  paper  on  the 
Osiris  Myth,  which  closes  with  these  words,  and  which  shows 
the  intensity  of  interest  with  which  he  regarded  the  whole  sub- 
ject :  — 

But  whence,  we  naturally  ask,  did  the  Egyptian  faith  derive  the 
spiritual  truths  which  during  the  earlier  centuries  gave  it  such  power, 
and  which  after  ages  of  corruption  and  perversion  by  the  priests  still 
enabled  it  to  maintain  its  hold  upon  the  respect  of  the  people  ?  More 
especially,  whence  the  unexpected  and  almost  startling  resemblance 
which  in  some  of  its  features  it  bears  to  Christianity,  unfolding  as  it 
seems  to  do  a  similar  plan  of  salvation,  and  revealing  like  phases  of 
the  divine  character  ?  Are  its  contained  truths  parts  of  a  heritage, 
originally  bestowed  upon  man  before  his  dispersion  over  the  earth  ? 
Or  did  they  originate,  as  Bunsen  supposes,  in  the  God-consciousness 
of  the  human  soul  ?  Or  were  they  reached  by  philosophic  induction 
through  profound  thought  and  study?  Or  has  the  common  Father, 
instead  of  restricting  his  revelations  to  a  single  tribe  or  stock,  made 
known  to  all  the  great  races  of  mankind  such  moral  and  spiritual 
truths  as  are  necessary  to  the  performance  of  the  part  assigned  them 
in  the  drama  of  human  progress?  However  we  may  answer  this  ques- 
tion, a  faith  that  has  lighted  so  many  millions  of  our  fellow-men  to  the 
tomb,  and  has  projected  its  rays,  feeble  and  flickering  though  they  be, 
into  the  unexplored  regions  beyond,  is  worthy  of  our  respectful  and 
sympathetic  regard. 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  35 

This  period  of  foreign  travel  in  1872-73,  lasting  for  a  year 
and  a  half,  seems,  however,  only  to  have  invigorated  him  for  a 
new  sphere  and  new  plans  of  work.  He  wrote  from  Dresden  : 
"  It  is  now  a  little  more  than  a  year  since  we  left  home.  I  am 
getting  weary  of  travel,  and  shall  be  glad  when  we  have  accom- 
plished what  we  proposed  to  do."  His  active  spirit  never  could 
have  contented  itself  with  mere  scholarly  leisure.  Some  career  of 
useful  endeavor  it  was  sure  to  create  for  itself.  Accordingly, 
on  his  return  to  his  own  land,  and  for  the  last  twelve  years  of 
his  busy  life,  we  find  him  devoting  himself  to  labors  wholly 
apart  from  his  old  professional  calling,  yet  which  crown  his 
life  with  rare  completeness  and  honor.  It  seems  evident  that 
in  these  the  influence  of  Dr.  Wayland  is  clearly  traceable.  He 
had  in  a  passage  of  great  force  and  beauty  spoken  of  Dr.  Way- 
land's  devoted  labors  for  promoting  every  educational,  philan- 
thropic, and  religious  interest  in  the  city  of  Providence  and  the 
State  of  Rhode  Island.  He  caught  the  inspiration  of  the  great 
example.  It  was  easy  for  him  to  do  so.  He  was  never  a  schol- 
arly recluse,  shutting  himself  off  from  contact  with  living  social 
interests.  Naturally  reserved,  yet  that  reserve  never  stood  in 
the  way  of  active  service,  and  was  no  bar  to  useful  endeavor. 
It  was  his  conviction  that  the  scholar,  be  he  man  of  letters  or 
man  of  science,  held  his  gifts  and  acquirements  in  trust  for  the 
common  good.  Years  before,  and  while  he  was  busy  with  his 
college  classes,  he  found  time  to  give  lectures  to  those  engaged 
in  the  manufacturing  industries  of  the  State.  An  illustration  of 
what  he  did  in  this  way  is  found  in  the  following  extract  from 
the  Providence  "  Journal  "  :  — 

We  take  pleasure  in  publishing  the  following  correspondence,  grow- 
ing out  of  a  course  of  lectures  delivered  during  the  past  winter  in 


36  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

Rhode  Island  Hall.  These  lectures  were  given  under  a  provision  made 
in  the  recent  organization  of  the  university  for  extending  to  the  prac- 
tical classes  of  the  community  the  advantages  of  scientific  instruction  in 
the  processes  of  their  several  arts.  They  were  especially  designed  for 
the  benefit  of  those  engaged  in  the  working  of  metals,  and  were  at- 
tended by  large  numbers  of  the  intelligent  and  enterprising  jewelers  of 
our  city.  The  manner  in  which  they  were  appreciated  is  indicated  by 
the  correspondence,  and  the  value  of  such  appreciation  will  be  inferred 
from  the  position  and  character  of  the  gentlemen  whose  names  are 
affixed  to  it. 

Providence,  June  8, 1853. 
Professor  George  I.  Chace,  Brown  University : 

Deah  Sir,  —  We  ask  your  acceptance  of  the  accompanying  silver 
pitcher  as  a  token  of  the  regard  in  which  we  hold  your  labors  in  the 
course  of  lectures  at  Rhode  Island  HaU,  on  the  Chemistry  of  the 
Metals.  Yours,  very  respectfully, 

Church  &  Metcalf,  Sacket,  Davis  &  Potter, 

Samuel  Allen,  Allin  Brown, 

Budlong  &  Rathbun,  Henry  Simon, 

Stone  &  Weaver,  Potter  &  Brown, 

George  Mason,  Lewis  Carr, 

George  Hunt,  W.  F.  Marshall, 

T.  J.  Linton,  George  A.  Sagendorph, 

Gorham  &  Co.,  Wm.  W.  Keach, 

Mathewson  &  AUen,  *     G.  &  H.  Owen, 

Palmer  &  Capron. 

Brown  IlNrv^RSiTY,  June  8,  1853. 
Gentlemen,  —  Permit  me  to  tender  to  you  my  sincere  thanks  for 
the  splendid  testimonial  with  which  you  have  been  pleased  to  honor  my 
humble  endeavors  to  elucidate  some  of  the  processes  of  your  beautiful 
art.  Whether  I  regard  the  object  itself  —  a  graceful  and  finished 
product  of  Rhode  Island  skill  and  workmanship  —  or  think  of  the  gen- 
erous appreciation  and  high  courtesy  to  which  I  am  indebted  for  it,  its 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  37 

possession  is  equally  a  source  of  pride  and  gratification.  I  shall  ever 
prize  it,  not  only  as  a  grateful  remembrancer  of  the  past,  —  of  hours 
spent  pleasantly  by  me,  and  I  hope  not  unprofitably  by  you,  —  but  as  a 
bright  augury  of  a  closer  relationship  in  future,  at  least  within  the  bor- 
ders of  our  city,  between  science  and  the  productive  arts.  For  the  es- 
tablishment and  maintenance  of  such  a  relationship,  I  pledge  you,  in 
receiving  this  superb  gift  and  proud  token  of  your  confidence  and  re- 
gard, that  no  exertions  on  my  part  shall  be  wanting. 

With  sentiments  of  the  highest  respect,  I  remain,  gentlemen, 

Your  obliged  servant, 
George  I.  Chace. 

We  think  that  the  university  could  hardly  desire  a  more  gratifying 
proof  than  is  thus  offered  that  its  recent  provisions  for  the  wider  and 
more  general  diffusion  of  scientific  knowledge,  especially  among  the 
mechanical  classes,  are  held  in  due  estimation.  When,  last  autumn, 
by  way  of  carrying  out  these  provisions  in  one  of  the  directions  open 
for  it,  the  above  course  of  lectures  was  suggested  to  some  of  our  lead- 
ing manufacturing  jewelers,  they  entered  at  once  into  the  spirit  of 
the  enterprise,  and  lent  to  it  their  ready  aid  and  sympathy.  And 
now,  after  having  contributed,  by  their  cooperation  and  influence,  in 
no  small  degree  to  its  successful  issue,  they  have  chosen  this  most 
emphatic  mode  of  publicly  expressing  their  approbation  of  the  design 
and  purpose  in  which  it  originated. 

We  trust  that  the  endeavors  of  the  university  for  the  promotion 
of  a  broader  and  more  popular  education  will  be  seconded  with  equal 
promptitude  and  spirit  by  the  intelligent  and  influential  citizens  en- 
gaged in  other  branches  of  trade  and  manufacture,  and  that  the 
time  will  soon  come  when  a  knowledge  of  the  sciences,  instead  of 
being  confined  to  the  professional  classes,  by  whom  they  are  sought 
chiefly  as  a  means  of  culture,  shall  be  the  possession  of  every  mechanic 
and  artisan,  to  whom,  besides  answering  the  same  general  end  of  cul- 
ture, they  will  prove  of  the  greatest  practical  value. 


88  GEORGE  IDE    CHACE. 

With  the  views  here  expressed  Professor  Chace  was  in  the 
fullest  sympathy.  He  was  ready  to  give  unsparing  effort  to 
carry  them  into  effect.  His  success  in  this  field  of  effort  was 
as  marked  as  his  success  in  class-rooms  with  the  pupils  of 
the  college,  or  before  more  cultivated  audiences. 

It  is  important  to  note  these  early  efforts  of  Professor  Chace 
to  identify  himself  with  interests  outside  his  professional  life, 
since  they  are  the  root  out  of  which  sprang  the  "  bright 
consummate  flower  "  of  his  closing  years.  The  charitable 
labors  which  invested  them  with  so  rich  a  crown  were  in  fact 
no  sudden  development.  His  mind  and  heart  had  long  been 
in  training  for  them,  and  when  the  opportunity  came  he  seized 
it.  These  labors  were,  during  this  period,  mainly  of  a  philan- 
thropic nature.  But  before  considering  them  in  proper  detail, 
what  seems  like  an  episode  in  his  career  should  be  noticed. 
It  was  his  brief  service  to  the  city  of  Providence  as  one  of 
its  aldermen.  To  this  office  he  was  chosen  in  1878,  again 
in  1879,  afterwards  declining  reelection,  but  only  because  his 
labors  for  the  public  weal  in  other  directions  had  become  too 
severely  onerous.  To  this  office  he  brought  the  same  gifts 
which  had  made  him  conspicuous  as  a  teacher  :  fearless  hon- 
esty in  dealing  with  all  questions  ;  thorough-going  scrutiny  of 
whatever  came  up  for  investigation  ;  careful  weighing  of  all 
considerations  bearing  on  the  question,  —  and  then,  as  the 
result,  sound  practical  conclusions.  His  speech  on  the  sub- 
ject of  true  municipal  economy  attracted  at  the  time  of  its 
delivery  the  attention  of  the  whole  city.  It  was  commented  on 
most  favorably  by  the  city  journals.  Citizens  sent  in  commu- 
nications warmly  commending  his  views.  In  all  the  varied 
interests  with  which  city  government  has  to  deal,  he  was  con- 


GEORGE  IDE  CHACE.  39 

spicuous  as  the  advocate  of  sound  business-like  views.  He  felt 
profound  concern  as  to  the  whole  question  of  municipal  gov- 
ernment. He  sat  upon  committees,  engaged  in  debate,  pro- 
moted measures  in  the  board  of  aldermen,  with  the  same  earnest, 
painstaking,  thorough-going  service  with  which  he  taught  his 
classes  in  mental  and  moral  philosophy.  Perhaps  no  better 
illustration  of  the  breadth  and  wisdom  with  which  he  met  all 
subjects  of  municipal  welfare  can  be  found  than  is  supplied  in 
a  speech  at  the  dedication  of  the  new  Providence  High  School 
Building.     Its  opening  portions  are  subjoined :  — 

The  completion  of  this  ample,  commodious,  and  beautiful  edifice, 
to  be  dedicated  henceforward  to  the  highest  education  of  our  city, 
to  be  the  perpetual  seat  and  home  of  a  manly  discipline  and  gen- 
erous culture,  where  our  most  gifted  youth  may,  generation  after 
generation,  receive  instruction  in  all  useful  knowledge,  and  have  their 
minds  moulded  to  types  of  intellectual  grace  and  moral  beauty,  is  a 
just  cause  for  pride  and  a  fit  subject  for  congratulations  among  our 
citizens.  Well  may  we  give  a  brief  hour  to  the  indulgence  of  such 
pride  and  the  interchange  of  such  congratulations.  Happily  there 
are  no  drawbacks  to  the  satisfaction  we  may  properly  feel  in  the 
accomplishment  of  so  important  a  work.  Although  hardly  surpassed 
in  exterior  attractions  by  any  building  in  our  city,  and  uniting  within, 
to  elegance  of  finish,  every  accommodation  that  could  be  desired, 
through  the  sedulous  care  of  the  commission  intrusted  with  its  erec- 
tion, it  has  been  kept  within  the  limits  of  the  original  estimate,  and 
now  stands  complete  in  all  its  parts,  at  a  cost  which  need  not  dis- 
turb the  serenity  of  the  most  cautious  and  prudent  citizen. 

Whether  we  ought  to  have  a  high  school,  whether  an  institution 
offering  advantages  superior  to  those  of  our  grammar  schools  has  a 
rightful  place  in  our  system  of  public  education,  whether  it  is  expe- 
dient or  wise  or  just  to  provide  in  the  general  tax  levy  for  the  sup- 
port of  such  an  institution,  I  wiU  not  now  inquire.      That  question 


40  GEORGE   IDE   CHACE. 

has  been  decided  by  our  citizens ;  and  the  experience  of  the  last 
thirty-five  years  has,  I  think,  abundantly  vindicated  their  decision. 
As  there  are  some,  however,  who  are  disposed  to  question  its  correct- 
ness ;  who,  though  freely  admitting,  on  the  ground  of  the  general  wel- 
fare, the  duty  of  providing  for  every  child  born  the  means  of  an 
education  that  shall  fit  him  for  the  discharge  of  all  the  duties  of  a 
freeman,  doubt  the  propriety  or  right  of  burdening  the  general  tax- 
payer for  training  here  and  there  a  favored  boy  or  girl  for  the  higher 
walks  and  better  conditions  of  life,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  consider 
for  a  moment  whether  there  be  any  just  ground  for  the  distinction 
here  made. 

Is  it  more  important  that  there  should  be  honest  and  intelligent 
voters  than  that  there  should  be  able  men,  good  and  true,  for  whom 
they  may  cast  their  votes  ?  Is  it  more  important  to  a  community  to 
have  well-informed  and  industrious  operatives  than  to  have  men  of 
large  intelligence  and  clear  heads  who  may  direct  their  labors  and 
turn  them  into  profitable  channels  ?  Is  an  enlightened  class  of  pro- 
ducers more  essential  to  the  business  prosperity  of  the  country  than 
honest  clerks,  skillful  accountants,  capable  and  trusty  agents,  and  able 
and  sagacious  business  men  and  financiers  ?  At  whose  door  lies  the 
responsibility  for  the  great  losses  and  fearful  commercial  disasters  of 
the  last  few  years,  and  for  the  present  depressed  state  of  every  spe- 
cies of  industry  ?  At  whose  door,  I  say,  does  the  responsibility  for 
these  great  evils  lie  ?  Surely  not  at  the  door  of  the  producing  classes. 
The  country  is  to-day  full  to  repletion  of  the  products  of  their  labor. 
We  must  look  higher  up  in  society  for  the  origin  of  our  business 
troubles.  Their  fruitful  source  will  be  found  in  unwise  investments, 
in  incompetent  management,  in  ignorance  of  the  fundamental  laws  of 
trade  and  finance,  in  wild  and  reckless  speculation,  in  enterprises  not 
well  considered  and  from  the  start  doomed  to  failure,  in  lack  of 
capacity  for  the  organization  and  conduct  of  business,  in  breaches  of 
trust,  in  failures  of  character,  in  defalcations  and  misappropriations,  in 
fraud  and  trickery  and  dishonesty  of  all  kinds  among  the  better  con- 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  41 

ditioned  class,  —  among  those  who  occupy  pivotal  positions,  and  con- 
trol by  their  movements,  to  a  large  extent,  the  business  of  the  country ; 
who  not  only  direct  its  industries,  but  receive,  handle,  and  distribute 
their  varied  products.  These  higher  places  in  society  must  be  filled 
with  a  higher  order  of  men  before  prosperity  can  be  restored  or  busi- 
ness settle  itself  upon  a  sure  and  solid  basis.  For  the  training  and 
preparation  of  such  men  we  need  all  that  our  highest  schools  and 
best  masters  can  do  for  them.  These  more  advanced  institutions  of 
learning  are  as  essential  to  the  public  welfare,  and  are,  consequently, 
as  much  entitled  to  public  support,  as  schools  of  a  lower  grade,  where 
the  pupils  are  fitted  for  the  ordinary  occupations  and  duties  of  life. 

But  there  is  another  question  connected  with  our  subject,  that  is 
not  so  easily  answered :  To  what  extent  should  provision  be  made  at 
public  expense  for  this  higher  education  ?  Shall  the  doors  of  our 
school  be  thrown  wide  open,  inviting  all  who  may  desire  to  enter? 
Or  shall  restrictions  be  placed  upon  admission,  limiting  the  number 
to  such  as  are,  by  character  and  attainment,  prepared  to  avail 
themselves  of  its  advantages,  and  as  may  be  required  by  the  inter- 
ests of  the  community  to  fill  its  more  important  places  ?  To  ask  this 
question,  one  would  at  first  think,  is  to  answer  it.  Nothing  would 
seem  clearer  than  that  a  system  of  public  education,  depending  for  its 
justification  upon  the  requirement  of  the  public  welfare,  should  be 
kept  within  the  limits  of  that  requirement.  Otherwise  it  loses  its 
raison  d'etre.  The  encouragement  of  tastes  and  aspirations  for  a  kind 
of  life  which  nature  has  not  fitted  one  for  is  at  best  a  questionable 
benefit.  It  should  ever  be  remembered  that  schools  do  not  make 
brain  ;  they  only  discipline  and  train  it.  The  smith  may  go  through 
the  form  of  sharpening  a  sabre  or  knife ;  but  if  it  lack  steel,  he  can- 
not impart  to  it  keenness  of  edge.  In  the  struggle  for  place  and 
power,  rude  strength  will  always  get  the  better  of  educated  feeble- 
ness. To  turn,  at  public  expense,  those  born  with  organizations  fit- 
ting them  to  become  good  farmers  or  skillful  mechanics  into  slow 
accountants,  or  incapable  business   agents,  or  dull  teachers,  or   poor 


42  GEORGE  IDE  CHACE. 

doctors,  or  ministers,  or  lawyers,  is  an  injury  to  the  individuals  them- 
selves, as  well  as  a  wrong  to  the  community. 

But  his  chief  work  as  a  public  man  is  to  be  found  in  his  con- 
nection with  the  State  Board  of  Charities.  The  following  ac- 
count of  it,  furnished  by  Professor  Gammell,  will  show  what  it 
was  for  practical  wisdom,  for  far-reaching  benevolence,  what  a 
high  order  of  ability  it  required,  and  what  a  success  he  achieved. 

After  the  return  of  Mr.  Chace  from  his  visit  to  Europe  and  the 
East,  he  was  not  without  some  solicitude  as  to  the  manner  in  which  he 
might  find  occupation  for  his  unaccustomed  leisure.  His  life  had  been 
spent  in  the  most  uniform  of  all  professions,  in  which  the  duties  of 
nearly  every  day  are  prescribed  by  an  unvarying  rule.  He  had,  howN 
ever,  little  considered  how  many  things  there  are  of  public  importance 
in  every  large  community  that  will  be  done  only  by  benevolent  and 
public-spirited  citizens,  and  especially  how  numerous  are  the  demands 
which  are  sure  to  be  made  on  an  educated  man  of  leisure  who  has  any 
aptitude  for  affairs.  It  was  not  long  before  he  found  himself  fully  oc- 
cupied with  new  activities  and  cares.  He  had  already,  as  early  as 
1870,  been  chosen  a  trustee  of  the  Butler  Hospital  for  the  Insane, 
and  had  become  much  interested  in  the  work  of  that  admirable  insti- 
tution. He  continued  his  connection  with  it  for  thirteen  years.  In 
May,  1874,  a  few  months  after  his  return,  he  was  appointed  by  the 
governor  of  Rhode  Island  a  member  of  the  Board  of  State  Charities 
and  Corrections,  a  board  which  had  been  created  a  few  years  before 
for  the  management  of  the  charitable  and  penal  institutions  belong- 
ing to  the  State.  On  taking  his  seat  with  his  associates  he  was  im- 
mediately chosen  chairman  of  the  board,  and  that  position  he  contin- 
ued to  fill  till  his  resignation  in  October,  1883,  when  his  health  was 
beginning  to  fail.  In  November,  1875,  he  was  chosen  a  trustee  of  the 
Rhode  Island  Hospital,  and  in  June,  1877,  he  was  made  president  of 
its  corporation.  This  latter  office  he  continued  to  hold  to  the  end  of 
his  life.     Of  the  duties  pertaining  to  it  he  took  broad  and  generous 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE,  43 

views,  and  gave  a  great  deal  of  time  to  assisting  in  the  beneficent  work 
of  the  hospital.  He  also  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  its  resources 
greatly  increased  and  its  usefulness  enlarged  during  the  period  of  his 
connection  with  it. 

It  was,  however,  in  the  Board  of  State  Charities  and  Corrections  that 
his  duties  became  by  far  the  most  engrossing.  It  was  of  the  nature  of 
a  public  trust,  and  having  been  but  recently  created  by  the  State  it 
had  not  yet  completed  the  experimental  period  of  its  existence.  It  was 
also  requiring  large  outlays  of  money,  and  was  naturally  regarded  with 
some  misgivings,  which  made  its  success  a  matter  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance. This  board,  unlike  those  in  other  States,  is  not  advisory  in  its 
functions,  but  purely  administrative,  and  it  exercises  entire  control 
over  the  institutions  committed  to  its  care,  being  responsible  only  to 
the  legislature.  Its  members  are  always  citizens  of.  high  character  and 
superior  intelligence,  who  serve  without  compensation.  When  Mr. 
Cliace  entered  upon  his  duties  the  State  Farm  in  Cranston,  some  seven 
miles  from  Providence,  contained  only  three  of  the  institutions  now  es- 
tablished there.  These  were  the  Almshouse,  the  House  of  Correction, 
and  the  Asylum  for  the  Incurable  Insane,  and  for  these  the  buildings 
had  not  all  been  constructed.  The  legislature,  however,  had  decided 
that  the  State  Prison  and  the  Providence  County  Jail  should  be  placed 
there  so  soon  as  the  requisite  buildings  could  be  erected ;  and  a  com- 
mission had  been  created  for  erecting  them,  of  which  the  chairman  of 
the  board  was,  ex  officio^  a  member.  Subsequently  the  institution 
known  as  the  Reform  School  of  the  City  of  Providence  was  transferred 
to  the  State,  and  additional  buildings  for  separate  reformatories  for 
both  sexes  were  built  under  the  direction  of  the  board.  When  these 
were  completed,  the  establishment  at  the  State  Farm  included  six  sepa- 
rate institutions,  and  in  addition  to  these  the  board  exercises  an  inciden- 
tal supervision  of  the  jails  in  the  several  counties  of  the  State.  These 
institutions  now  require  not  less  than  thirty-five  separate  buildings  for 
their  accommodation,  besides  houses  for  officers,  attendants,  farmers, 
and  laborers.    Of  these  main  buildings,  ten  are  for  the  Asylum  for  the 


44  GEORGE  IDE  CHACE. 

Incurable  Insane,  nine  are  for  the  Boys'  Reformatory,  six  are  for  the 
State  Prison  and  the  County  Jail,  five  are  for  the  Almshouse,  four  are 
for  the  House  of  Correction,  and  one  for  the  Girls'  Reformatory.  The 
larger  part  of  these  buildings  were  constructed  while  Mr.  Chace  was 
connected  with  the  board,  and  more  or  less  under  his  supervision.  But 
in  addition  to  the  work  of  building,  which  was  so  long  in  progress,  was 
the  associated  work  of  laying  out  the  grounds  embracing  a  farm  of 
more  than  five  hundred  acres,  of  inclosing  the  entire  estate  and  the 
allotments  of  the  several  institutions  with  suitable  walls,  of  providing 
roads  for  access  to  them,  of  making  advantageous  arrangements  for 
gaslight,  for  abundant  water,  and  for  a  system  of  comprehensive  drain- 
age. New  legislation  was  also  to  be  prepared  for  adoption  by  the 
General  Assembly,  and  explained  to  its  committees ;  and,  what  was  not 
unfrequently  the  most  delicate  and  difficult  task  of  all,  suitable  officers 
were  to  be  selected  and  secured  for  the  proper  administration  of  a 
group  of  institutions  so  comprehensive  and  at  the  same  time  so  diver- 
sified in  their  purposes  and  in  the  care  which  they  required. 

To  this  entire  work  in  all  its  branches  Mr.  Chace  gave  himself  with 
extraordinary  energy  and  zeal.  It  occupied  all  his  time,  and  well-nigh 
all  his  thoughts,  until  its  accomplishment  was  secured,  and  these  im- 
portant institutions  of  the  State  were  placed  upon  their  present  pros- 
perous footing,  and  under  a  system  of  administration  reorganized  and 
adjusted  to  their  new  and  enlarged  dimensions.  In  all  this  work  he 
and  his  associates  were  in  the  fullest  harmony  and  cooperation.  His 
scientific  knowledge,  his  careful  judgment,  and  his  weight  of  character 
gave  them  the  assurance  that  he  was  a  safe  counselor  and  guide,  while 
his  conciliatory  spirit  and  unfailing  courtesy  enabled  him  to  harmonize 
varying  opinions,  and  to  secure  entire  unity  of  action  in  the  discharge 
of  every  duty.  Difficult  and  delicate  negotiations  were  often  intrusted 
to  him,  in  full  confidence  that  the  views  of  the  board  and  the  interests 
of  the  State  would  in  this  way  be  best  promoted,  and  the  result  always 
showed  that  this  confidence  had  not  been  misplaced.  Several  of  his 
associates  with  whom  I  have  conversed  have  spoken  in  terms  of  the 


G-EORGE   IDE   CHACE.  45 

warmest  commendation  of  his  judgment,  of  his  executive  capacity,  his 
varied  practical  knowledge,  his  thoroughness  in  all  investigations,  his 
patience  in  all  times  of  trial,  his  uniform  courtesy,  and  his  rare  fit- 
ness to  guide  the  deliberations  and  shape  the  action  of  the  board. 
While  he  occupied  this  position  he  was  largely  engaged  with  its  duties 
and  cares,  and  some  of  these  years,  as  he  used  to  say,  were  among  the 
busiest  of  his  life. 

Before  this  work  of  construction  and  reorganization  was  entirely  fin- 
ished, those  who  were  nearest  to  him  perceived  that  it  was  wearing 
upon  his  strength.  He  had  already  been  admonished  by  an  eminent 
physician  whom  he  consulted  that  he  was  tasking  himself  with  too 
many  cares  for  the  period  of  life  which  he  had  reached.  He,  however, 
did  not  remit  them,  though  he  practiced  every  prudence,  till  he  saw  the 
State  Farm  and  its  institutions  brought  to  the  condition  contemplated 
in  the  plans  which  he  had  assisted  in  preparing,  and  administered  ac- 
cording to  the  methods  which  he  had  advocated  and  caused  to  be 
adopted.  He  felt  bound  in  honor  and  in  religious  duty  to  assist  in 
carrying  to  its  completion  the  important  work  whose  execution  had 
been  intrusted  to  him  and  his  associates.  When  this  had  been  accom- 
plished he  withdrew  from  the  board  in  October,  1883,  after  a  period 
of  sei-vice  extending  through  nine  years  and  five  months,  and  when  he 
had  already  passed  his  seventy-fifth  birthday.  His  resignation  was 
even  then  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  prudence  rather  than  with 
his  wishes,  and  his  interests  and  his  thoughts  continued  to  linger  amidst 
the  State  institutions  which  had  been  so  long  nurtured  by  his  daily 
care.  He,  however,  still  continued  his  connection  with  the  Rhode  Isl- 
and Hospital  and  some  other  posts  of  disinterested  service,  to  the  end 
of  his  life. 

These  closing  years  which  Mr.  Chace  thus  devoted  to  the  institutions 
of  philanthropy  with  which  he  became  connected,  and  especially  to  the 
care  of  the  comprehensive  establishment  at  which  the  State  of  Rhode 
Island  gathers  its  criminals,  its  pauper  insane,  its  wayward  children, 
and  its  dependent  poor,  make  a  fitting  complement  to  his  long  period 


46  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

of  service  as  a  teacher  of  science  at  the  university.  Together  they  con- 
stitute a  life  of  that  order  of  usefulness  and  distinction  which  is  always 
its  own  best  eulogy,  —  a  life  faithfully  and  religiously  spent  in  promot- 
ing the  noblest  interests  of  society  and  of  mankind. 

And  perhaps  no  more  striking  proof  of  what  power  there  is 
in  such  an  example  could  be  given  than  is  found  in  the  tribute 
paid  to  him  by  Hon.  Francis  Wayland,  of  New  Haven,  Conn. 

In  the  course  of  the  annual  meeting  of  the  National  Prison 
Association,  held  at  Detroit  October  17-21,  1885,  Professor 
Francis  Wayland,  Dean  of  Yale  Law  School,  addressed  the  as- 
sociation as  follows,  Ex-President  R.  B.  Hayes  being  in  the 
chair :  — 

Mk.  Chairman,  —  Since  our  last  annual  meeting  death  has  taken 
from  us  several  of  our  most  esteemed  counselors  and  co-workers.  The 
career  of  one  of  them  so  admirably  illustrates  the  value  of  educated 
ability  in  the  work  of  prison  reform  and  furnishes  so  stimulating  an 
example  of  self-denying  devotion  to  duty  that  it  deserves  something 
more  than  passing  mention. 

Professor  George  Ide  Chace,  LL.  D.,  a  vice-president  of  this  body 
since  its  reorganization,  was  graduated  at  Brown  University  in  1830 
with  the  highest  honors  of  his  class.  Summoned  by  his  Alma  Mater, 
a  year  later,  to  become  a  member  of  the  faculty  of  instruction,  he  had, 
at  the  time  of  his  retirement  in  1872,  filled  with  conspicuous  ability 
every  position  from  tutor  to  president. 

After  eighteen  months  of  well-earned  rest  which  he  spent  in  foreign 
travel,  he  returned  to  Providence  greatly  improved  in  health.  He  was 
then  at  an  age  when  most  men,  after  so  many  years  of  confining  and 
monotonous  labor,  would  have  felt  disposed  to  pass  the  remaining  days 
in  "  the  still  air  of  delightful  studies."  But  if  such  a  temptation  as- 
sailed Professor  Chace,  he  resisted  it  manfully  and  successfully.  He 
was  very  soon  appointed  a  member,  and  a  little  later  chairman,  of  the 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  47 

State  Board  of  Charities  and  Corrections,  an  office  which  he  held  for 
nearly  ten  years.  During  the  same  period  he  was  a  trustee  for  the 
Butler  Hospital  for  the  Insane,  and  President  of  the  Rhode  Island 
Hospital.  As  has  been  well  said :  "  To  the  promotion  of  the  great  in- 
terests of  all  these  institutions  he  gave  himself  with  zeal  and  devotion, 
occupied  in  thought  and  action  with  beneficent  and  Christian  measures 
for  the  cure  of  the  sick  and  the  care  of  the  insane  and  the  reformation 
of  the  vicious." 

But  what  more  immediately  concerns  us  relates  to  his  labors  as  chair- 
man of  the  Rhode  Island  State  Board  of  Charities  and  Corrections. 
That  the  penal  and  correctional  institutions  of  that  enlightened,  pro- 
gressive little  commonwealth  have  reached  such  a  praiseworthy  condi- 
tion of  excellence  is  largely  due  to  the  intelligent  zeal  with  which  Pro- 
fessor Chace  devoted  himself  to  this  form  of  philanthropic  effort. 

His  active  mind  could  not  long  be  contented  with  methods  which  had 
nothing  to  justify  their  existence  but  the  fact  that  they  survived.  In- 
deed, for  a  man  of  his  years,  he  was  singidarly  hospitable  to  new  ideas 
if  they  gave  fair  or  reasonable  promise  of  good  results.  He  sought  in- 
formation in  all  directions,  deferring  with  characteristic  modesty  to  the 
opinions  of  those  who  had  been  longer  in  this  field  of  labor  than  him- 
self, but  taking  nothing  for  granted  which  did  not  commend  itself  to 
his  own  deliberate  judgment.  He  was  thoroughly  humane,  without 
ever  being  betrayed  into  merely  sentimental  sympathy  with  the  wrong- 
doer. In  his  view,  the  whole  duty  of  society  was  not  discharged  by  se- 
cluding the  offender  from  contact  with  his  fellows  during  a  fixed  term  of 
imprisonment.  He  believed  that  reformation  and  imprisonment  should 
go  hand  in  hand ;  that  the  inmate  of  a  prison  or  jail  should  be  encour- 
aged in  every  legitimate  way  to  reenter  the  ranks  of  society  as  a  re- 
claimed man.  To  this  end  he  welcomed  every  available  form  of  useful 
labor,  every  practicable  scheme  of  instruction,  the  religious  services  of 
the  chaplain,  the  faithful  work  of  the  Sabbath-school  teacher.  He 
held  that  these  were  all  important  factors  in  the  work  of  reformation, 
elements  of  physical,  mental,  and  moral  discipline  which  would  be  in- 


48  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

valuable  to  the  prisoner,  if  wisely  employed  and  honestly  accepted.  At 
the  same  time,  he  never  favored  lavish  expenditure.  Guarding  with 
scrupulous  fidelity  every  trust  confided  to  his  care,  he  did  not  consider 
his  official  obligations  fulfilled  if  he  did  not  protect  the  interests  of  the 
tax-payer.  While  he  did  not  regard  an  annual  balance  in  favor  of 
the  State  as  the  main  thing  to  be  aimed  at  by  the  board  of  control,  he 
held  that  the  public  had  a  right  to  demand  the  strictest  economy  in 
prison  management  consistent  with  a  wise  system  of  prison  reform. 

He  knew  that  this  was  impossible  without  diligent  attention  to  de- 
tails, and  no  small  portion  of  his  time  was  employed  in  regular  and 
careful  inspection  of  every  branch  of  the  service. 

He  soon  learned  that  the  best  subordinate  officers  are  not  too  good 
to  be  kept  under  the  watchful  eye  of  adequate  supervision.  Accord- 
ingly, his  visits  to  the  institutions  over  which  he  presided  were  not  only 
frequent,  but  were  felt  to  be  much  more  than  formal.  Every  official 
was  made  aware  that  genuine  worth  would  be  appreciated  and  that  no 
neglect  of  duty  would  be  overlooked.  Friendly  with  all,  but  familiar 
with  none,  he  happily  blended  true  dignity  with  kindly  courtesy.  He 
never  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  a  meritorious  applicant  for  mercy,  and  he 
was  rarely  deceived  by  spurious  professions  of  reform.  His  intimate 
friends  often  speak  of  the  surprise  with  which  they  beheld  this  man,  ha- 
bituated for  nearly  half  a  century  to  the  drill  of  the  class-room,  display 
as  much  aptitude  for  the  superintendence  of  penal  and  correctional  in- 
stitutions as  if  that  had  been  his  life  work. 

It  came  simply  from  his  habit  of  doing  with  conscientious  thorough- 
ness, inspired  and  guided  by  a  disciplined  intellect,  whatever  service  was 
required  at  his  hands. 

Mr.  Chairman,  I  am  painfully  conscious  that  this  most  imperfect 
tribute  does  scant  justice  to  my  early  instructor  and  my  life  long  friend. 
But  he  needs  no  commendation  where  he  is  known,  and  no  memorial 
within  the  just  limits  of  an  occasion  like  this  would  fitly  introduce  him 
to  a  stranger. 

I  beg  leave  to  offer  the  following  resolutions :  - 


GEORGE  IDE   CIIACE.  49 

Resolved,  that  this  association  desires  to  place  on  record  its  high 
appreciation  of  the  intelligent  zeal,  the  untiring  industry,  and  the  un- 
selfish devotion  with  which  our  late  associate,  Professor  George  Ide 
Chace,  LL.  D.,  consecrated  the  closing  years  of  his  valuable  life  to  the 
cause  of  prison  reform. 

Resolved,  that  our  lamented  friend  has  left  an  example  worthy  of 
all  imitation  among  educated  men  of  the  application  of  a  carefully 
trained  mind  to  the  solution  of  important  problems  in  the  science  of 
penology. 

The  resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted. 

Interwoven  with  the  career  thus  sketched  were  other  services 
rendered  the  public  from  time  to  time  during  his  life.  These 
were  services  in  the  form  of  public  addresses  or  contributions  to 
our  periodical  literature.  Allusion  has  already  been  made  to 
his  lectures  before  the  representatives  of  various  manufacturing 
interests.  But  in  public  address  he  met  what  would  be  judged 
more  exacting  occasions.  These  were  of  two  kinds ;  occasional 
discourses  and  courses  of  lectures.  He  was  a  dignified  and  at- 
tractive speaker,  never  affecting  the  orator,  rather  always  speak- 
ing as  the  teacher,  and  depending  for  effect  on  the  force  of 
his  reasoning  and  the  legitimate  power  of  a  very  pure,  clear, 
and,  at  times,  chastely  ornate  style.  He  had,  however,  the  ad- 
vantage of  impressive  bearing,  and  if  the  manner  of  address 
was  far  from  studied  oratory,  it  was  attractive  for  its  manly  dig- 
nity, its  perfect  sincerity,  and,  on  fit  occasion,  solemn  earnest- 
ness of  utterance.  His  oration  before  the  Porter  Rhetorical 
Society  of  Andover  Theological  Seminary,  in  1854,  gave  rise 
to  some  discussion  of  the  views  advanced  on  the  relation  of 
Divine  Providence  to  natural  law.  He  was  entirely  prepared 
to  encounter  dissent  from  his  views.     This  his  catholic  spirit 


50  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

would  readily  tolerate.  He  was  stung  only  when  it  was  im- 
plied that  such  views  carried  with  them  essentially  disbelief  in 
the  teachings  of  Scripture.  It  was  with  a  just  resentment  that 
he  repelled  any  such  imputation.  In  reply  to  one  such  attack, 
alleging  that  "  one  for  consistency's  sake  should  renounce 
Christianity  before  he  uttered  such  a  philosophy,"  he  wrote  the 
following  spirited  disclaimer  :  — 

I  cannot  in  silence  suffer  suspicion  to  be  thus  cast  upon  my  earnest 
faith  in  that  system  of  revealed  truth  upon  which  rests  all  hope  not 
only  of  my  own  personal  salvation,  but  of  the  salvation  of  the  race ; 
and  with  which  I  believe  all  the  highest  and  best  interests  of  mankind 
in  this  world  to  be  most  intimately  connected.  No  man  has  a  moral 
right  to  cast  such  a  suspicion.  There  is  not  a  word  in  the  discourse, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end,  to  afford  the  slightest  justification  of  it. 

There  is  here  no  intention  of  raking  over  the  ashes  of  a 
buried  controversy.  All  that  is  meant  is  to  secure  for  his 
memory  —  possibly  a  work  of  supererogation  now  —  the  rec- 
ord that  he  believed  his  views  to  be  in  full  harmony  with  the 
Scriptures,  truly  interpreted,  and  that  they  were  views  accepted, 
as  he  thought,  by  such  Christian  men  of  science  as  Professor 
Hitchcock,  the  eminent  geologist  of  Amherst  College,  and  Pro- 
fessor Dana,  of  Yale  College.  The  discourse  was,  subsequent 
to  delivery,  published.  It  was  an  unalloyed  gratification  to  its 
author  that  he  received  from  Professor  Dana  a  letter  sympathiz- 
ing with  his  views  and  admiring  his  discourse  :  — 

New  Haven,  July  17,  1856. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  Your  very  acceptable   letter   was   received   some 

weeks  since.     The  first  article  of  yours  to  which  you  alluded  I  had 

seen,  and  the  second  one  I  immediately  looked  for  and  found.     Both 

I  have  much  enjoyed,  admiring  your  views  and  your  mode  of  presenting 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  51 

them.  The  Providence  of  God  is  a  deep  subject ;  and  perhaps  none 
has  received  greater  light  from  the  progress  of  science  than  this.  You 
allude  to  one  branch  of  the  subject  without  dwelling  upon  it,  —  the  in- 
fluence over  men  and  human  events  through  action  on  the  minds  of  men 
by  the  Divine  Spirit,  By  enlarging  on  Providence  from  this  point  of 
view,  you  might  make  a  valuable  contribution  to  theological  sci- 
ence. .  .  .  With  much  esteem,  very  truly  yours, 

James  D.  Dana. 

Apart  from  all  debate  as  to  the  soundness  of  its  views,  there 
was  no  question  as  to  its  ability  and  beauty  as  an  occasional 
discourse.  The  subject  was  one  he  had  considered  long  and 
deeply.  Some  of  its  passages  have  rare  finish,  and  the  whole 
discussion  shows  with  what  profound  interest  he  regarded  the 
problems  in  which  modern  science  and  Divine  revelation  are 
both  involved. 

Perhaps,  however,  the  most  successful  of  all  his  occasional 
discourses  was  that  delivered  in  1866,  commemorating  the  life 
and  services  of  President  Wayland.  Under  that  presidency 
the  greater  part  of  his  professional  career  had  been  passed. 
Under  it  he  had  begun  his  career  as  teacher  in  the  college. 
He  enjoyed  Dr.  Wayland's  confidence  and  friendship.  In  turn, 
Dr.  Wayland  leaned  strongly  on  his  counsels,  was  proud  of  his 
successes.  The  relation  between  them  was  one  of  affectionate 
esteem.  The  confidence  of  the  one  was  met  by  the  most  de- 
voted loyalty  of  the  other.  All  Professor  Chace's  heart  was 
thus  enlisted  in  the  commemorative  discourse.  It  was  a  mas- 
terly analysis  of  Dr.  Wayland's  powers,  a  well-weighed  estimate 
of  his  great  services  to  education,  philanthropy,  and  religion. 
Its  style  was  elevated,  but  all  through  the  address  the  warmth 
of  his  personal  attachment,  the  glow  of  his  admiration,  kindled 


52  GEORGE   IDE    CHACE. 

his  discussion.  And  the  impassioned  close  was  instantly  recog- 
nized by  all  who  heard  it  as  the  long  pent-up  outburst  of  an 
affection  which  had  been  gathering  volume  from  the  time  in 
which  he  had  sat  as  a  pupil  at  the  feet  of  his  great  master  to 
the  moment  of  its  utterance. 

In  the  various  courses  of  lectures  Professor  Chace  was  called 
on  to  deliver  he  certainly  won  high  and  deserved  praise.  A 
successful  and  brilliant  experimenter  when  experiment  was 
called  for,  gifted  with  the  power  to  make  abstruse  questions 
clear  to  common  minds,  capable  also  of  leading  the  more  culti- 
vated and  thoughtful  into  the  higher  relations  of  thought,  his 
services  were  often  called  into  requisition.  His  more  noted 
courses  of  lectures  were  those  before  the  Smithsonian  Institu- 
tion at  Washington,  D.  C.  ;  that  before  the  Peabody  Institute, 
Baltimore  ;  a  course  in  Boston ;  and  one  before  the  Newton 
Theological  Seminary.  The  latter,  never  before  published,  is 
appended  to  this  memorial.  At  their  close  the  faculty  of  the 
seminary  adopted  the  following  minute,  expressing  their  ap- 
preciation of  the  services  he  had  rendered  :  — 

The  faculty  of  the  Newton  Theological  Institution  feel  constrained, 
as  individuals  and  as  a  body,  to  put  on  record  their  high  appreciation 
of  the  course  of  lectures  delivered  by  Professor  Chace.  They  are  con- 
fident that  the  lectures  have  been  of  great  service  to  the  students,  en- 
larging their  knowledge  in  an  important  field  of  inquiry,  quickening 
insight  to  discover  proofs  of  intelligence  in  the  objects  and  laws  of  the 
natural  world,  and  confirming  faith  in  the  unity  of  the  divine  plan 
which  enfolds  both  nature  and  revelation.  They  are  gratified  that  the 
success  of  the  course  demonstrates  the  worth  of  this  new  line  of  in- 
struction and  the  wisdom  of  instituting  it.  They  unite  in  expressing 
the  desire  that  the  lectures  may  in  some  way  be  given  to  the  public, 
and  reach  a  larger  audience. 


GEORGE   IDE   CHACE.  63 

These  lectures  show  a  sustained  power  of  discussion  as  well 
as  the  close  and  clear  discrimination  of  a  trained  thinker. 
They  bring  him  vividly  before  us  in  the  light  in  which  he  loved 
best  to  stand,  that  of  a  scientific  man  endeavoring  not  so  much 
to  harmonize  science  and  religion  as  to  show  the  provinces  of 
each,  and  that  belief  in  the  Divine  revelation  given  us  in  the 
Scriptures  rests  on  rational  grounds.  It  is  a  gratifying  thought 
that  his  latest  public  utterance,  an  address  before  the  Rhode 
Island  Medical  Society,  in  June,  1883,  on  "  Theism  from  the 
Physician's  Standpoint,"  shows  him  in  the  same  attractive  light. 

Professor  Chace's  contributions  to  periodical  literature  were 
numerous,  considering  the  demands  which  his  varied  and  inces- 
sant labors  as  a  professor  made  upon  him.  It  is  noticeable  that 
they  are  mainly  devoted  to  the  discussion  of  subjects  not  spe- 
cifically scientific,  but  involving  more  or  less  questions  in  the- 
ology or  philosophy.  His  most  valuable  articles  for  the  re- 
views will  be  found  in  the  "Bibliotheca  Sacra."  They  form 
a  connected  series  of  discussions  in  natural  theology,  and  were 
contributed  during  the  years  1848-50.  "He  began  the  series 
with  an  article  on  the  "  Di\ane  Agency  in  the  Production  of 
Natural  Phenomena  "  (Bib.  Sac,  May,  1848).  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  one  on  "  Spirit  and  the  Constitution  of  Spiritual 
Beings  "  (Bib.  Sac,  November.,  1848).  He  furnished  next  an 
article  on  the  "  Natural  Proofs  of  the  ImmortaHty  of  the  Soul  " 
(Bib.  Sac,  February,  1849).  This,  an  elaborate  and  very  acute 
criticism  of  Bp.  Butler's  celebrated  chapter  in  his  "  Analogy," 
will  be  recognized  by  his  students  as  having  been  given  them 
during  their  study  of  the  "  Analogy  "  under  him,  and  is  the 
fruit  of  long  and  patient  thought.  This  article  was  followed 
by  one  upon  the  "  Dependence  of  the  Mental  Powers  upon  the 


54  GEORGE  IDE  CHACE. 

Bodily  Organization  "  (Bib.  Sac,  August,  1849),  a  subject  cog- 
nate with  the  one  he  had  just  discussed. 

The  series  ends  with  two  articles,  "  On  the  Existence  and 
Natural  Attributes  of  the  Divine  Being,"  "  The  Moral  Attri- 
butes of  the  Divine  Being "  (Bib.  Sac,  April  and  October, 
1850).  Of  these  articles  Professor  B.  B.  Edwards,  then  con- 
ducting the  "  Bibliotheca  Sacra,"  wrote  :  "  We  esteem  them, 
and  that  is  the  opinion  of  all  who  speak  of  them,  as  among  the 
ablest  and  best  written  which  we  have  ever  had  in  our  jour- 
nal." This  is  high  praise,  for  Professor  Edwards  was  a  man  of 
high  ideals  in  everything,  and  the  journal  was  at  that  time  pub- 
lishing articles  which  gave  it  the  highest  rank  among  reviews  of 
its  order. 

A  list  of  Professor  Chace's  more  important  contributions  to 
the  reviews  will  be  found  appended  to  this  sketch.  Two  of 
them,  that  on  the  "  Realm  of  Faith  "  (Baptist  Quarterly,  Janu- 
ary, 1871),  and  that  reviewing  Mr.  Rowland  G.  Hazard's  able 
work,  "  Man,  a  Creative  First  Cause "  (Andover  Review,  De- 
cember, 1884),  are  reprinted  in  this  volume.  The  lucid  order 
of  all  his  discussions,  the  grasp  of  the  subject,  the  clear,  vigor- 
ous, and  polished  style,  qualities  found  in  all  his  writings,  show 
the  secret  of  his  success  in  this  department,  a  field  in  which  ten 
fail  where  one  succeeds.  Professor  Chace  was  a  master  of  Eng- 
lish. His  sentences  are,  in  terseness  and  energy  of  expression, 
models.  His  illustrations  are  felicitous,  and  when  he  uses  orna- 
ment it  is  chaste  and  rich.  The  passages  which  here  and  there 
strike  the  reader  for  their  beauty  of  thought  and  expression  are 
numerous,  and  yet  no  one  can  regard  them  as  other  than  aids 
to  the  enforcement  of  his  views.  The  absolute  and  transparent 
sincerity  of  the  man  is  seen  in  the  writing. 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  55 

Any  formal  analysis  and  estimate  of  Professor  Chace's  intel- 
lectual powers  are  needless,  after  such  tributes  from  his  col- 
leao-ues  and  pupils  as  this  sketch  has  embodied,  and  after  the 
enumeration  of  his  labors  and  successes.  But  one  point  needs 
any  further  notice.  Coupled  with  quaHties  and  habits  of  mind 
fitting  him  for  severe  scientific  reasoning  and  investigation 
there  was  a  love  of  literature,  which  he  found  time  always  to 
gratify.  It  was  his  habit,  after  the  severer  toils  of  the  day  were 
over,  to  read  aloud  to  his  wife  from  the  best  authors,  or  to  be 
read  to  by  her.  So  they  together  traversed  the  pages  of  our 
choice  poets,  essayists,  and  historians.  With  Tennyson  and 
Browning  among  modern  poets  he  was  specially  familiar,  while 
Milton  and  Shakespeare  were  his  deHghts  among  the  older.  To 
the  last,  this  companionship  with  our  best  authors  was  kept  up, 
and  much  of  that  finer  element  in  his  written  style  as  well  as  in 
his  general  culture  was  due  to  this  familiarity  with  good  letters. 

Of  Professor  Chace's  Christian  character  it  may  be  said  that 
it  was  marked  throughout  by  genuineness,  depth,  and  catholicity. 
He  made  a  profession  of  his  faith  in  the  outset  of  his  career 
as  teacher  in  the  college,  uniting  himself  with  the  First  Baptist 
Church  in  Providence,  and  remaining  in  its  communion  till  his 
death,  his  membership  thus  continuing  for  fifty  years.  The  re- 
Hgious  atmosphere  which  surrounded  his  earlier  Christian  experi- 
ence was  one  peculiar  to  the  time.  Habits  of  severe  and  gloom- 
breeding  introspection,  and  a  vigorous  imposition  of  external 
tests  as  marks  of  discipleship,  too  much  predominated.  But 
the  letters  of  Professor  Chace  to  intimate  friends  at  this  period, 
though  too  full  of  sacred  personal  experiences  to  be  put  under 
the  eyes  of  the  pubhc,  show  a  simple,  warm,  sometimes  almost 
tearful  love  to  his  Saviour,  which  would  seem  strange  to  those 


56  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

who  thought  mainly  of  his  life  as  reserved,  if  not  cold.  It  is 
difficult  to  understand  how  the  impression  was  created  that  he 
was  of  skeptical  tendency.  Nothing  in  his  correspondence  shows 
it.  It  is  easy  to  misinterpret  the  working  of  a  mind  which  asks 
for  grounds  of  belief.  In  the  days  of  an  unquestioning  faith, 
even  to  inquire  seems  disloyalty  to  the  truth,  and  to  doubt  is  to 
side  with  the  unbeliever.  Professor  Chace  held  with  Sir  William 
Hamilton  that  doubt  had  its  legitimate  province.  "  We  doubt 
in  order  that  we  may  believe  ;  we  begin  that  we  may  not  end  in 
doubt.  We  doubt  once  that  we  may  believe  always  ;  we  re- 
nounce authority  that  we  may  follow  reason  ;  we  surrender  opin- 
ions that  we  may  obtain  knowledge.  We  must  be  protestants, 
not  infidels,  in  philosophy."  ^  He  subjected  his  beliefs  to  care- 
ful examination,  but  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his  career 
he  was  a  sincere  and  full  believer  in  the  great  truths  of  the 
revealed  word  of  God. 

He  fought  his  doubts  and  gathered  strength, 

He  would  not  make  his  judgment  blind  ; 

He  faced  the  spectres  of  the  mind, 
And  laid  them  :'  thus  he  came  at  length 

To  find  a  stronger  faith  his  own 

And  Power  was  with  him  in  the  night 

Which  makes  the  darkness  and  the  light, 
And  dwells  not  in  the  light  alone. 

But  in  the  darkness  and  the  cloud. 

As  over  Sinai's  peaks  of  old 

While  Israel  made  them  gods  of  gold. 
Although  the  trumpet  blew  so  loud. 

There  was  also  in  his  piety  an  emotional  element,  not  indeed 

1  See  Sir  William  Hamilton's  Lectures  on  Metaphysics,  Am.  ed.  p.  64. 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  57 

easily  stirred,  never  in  fact  roused  by  mere  appeals,  but  which 
on  fit  occasion  and  in  the  view  of  the  great  truths  of  religion, 
natural  or  revealed,  was  sure  to  manifest  itself.  In  his  letters 
there  are  found  many  and  touching  expressions  of  his  gratitude 
to  God.  His  scientific  investigations  leading  him  up  to  these 
high  thoughts  of  God,  often  left  him  the  grateful  worshipper 
where  he  had  begun  as  the  scientific  investigator.  And  in  all 
the  later  labors  of  charity  which  he  undertook,  sympathy  —  all 
the  deeper  because  so  genuine  —  was  an  unfailing  stimulus  to 
their  performance.  This  emotional  side  may  have  been  not 
often  shown,  but  those  who  knew  him  intimately,  knew  was  not 
wanting  in  him.  It  was  mostly  known,  indeed,  in  the  sacred 
privacies  of  his  own  home.  And  yet  on  occasions  it  could  not 
hide  itself  away.  An  instance  of  what  depth  and  tenderness 
were  in  his  emotional  nature  is  given  in  the  following  letter 
to  his  sister,  describing  a  scene  in  church  of  which  he  had 
been  witness :  — 

Providence,  June  9,  1861. 
My  dear  Sister,  —  I  have  been  present  to-Jay  at  one  of  the  most 
impressive  scenes  which  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  witness.  Our  sec- 
ond regiment  of  troops  leave  this  week  for  the  seat  of  war.  This 
morning  they  attended  worship  at  our  church.  They  occupied  the 
whole  body  of  the  church.  The  Governor,  together  with  his  staff  of 
high  officers,  was  with  them.  The  flag  of  our  country  floated  from  the 
spire  of  the  church,  and  on  the  inside  of  the  church,  the  pulpit  and  the 
wall  on  either  side  of  the  pulpit  was  covered  with  flags.  Our  pastor 
preached  a  most  faithful  and  earnest  discourse,  made  more  solemn  by 
the  thought  that  many  present  were  probably  listening  for  the  last  time 
to  the  preached  word  of  God  in  the  Christian  sanctuary.  The  text  was 
from  Isaiah  52d  chapter,  11th  and  12th  verses:  "Be  ye  clean,  that 
bear  the  vessels  of  the  Lord.     For  ye  shall  not  go  out  with  haste,  nor 


58  GEORGE  IDE  CHACE. 

go  by  flight ;  for  the  Lord  will  go  before  you ;  and  the  God  of  Israel 
will  be  your  rearward."  The  discourse  will  probably  be  printed,  in 
which  case  I  will  send  you  a  copy.  Some  portions  of  it  were  very 
moving.  Dr.  Wayland  made  the  opening  prayer.  It  was  a  sublime  lift- 
ing up  to  the  throne  of  grace  of  the  whole  regiment  together  with  the 
holy  cause  in  defense  of  which  they  were  about  to  offer  up,  if  need  be, 
their  lives.  I  am  not  so  easily  moved  as  I  once  was,  and  yet  the  tears 
ran  in  streams  down  my  cheeks  during  the  whole  prayer. 

The  catholicity  which  marked  his  religious  life  is  one  of  its 
conspicuous  traits.  He  was  a  Baptist  by  conviction,  and  he  was 
always  loyal  to  his  church.  His  devotion  to  it  increased  with 
his  years.  But  he  was  in  the  fullest  fellowship  with  all  true 
believers.  No  belief  of  his  was  any  bar  to  the  heartiest  apprecia- 
tion of  all  true  churches  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  In  a  letter 
to  his  sister  written  from  Geneva,  1872,  he  makes  this  striking 
remark :  "  I  have  been  in  communities  Protestant  and  Catho- 
lic, of  every  variety  of  faith  and  sect,  without  perceiving  those 
differences  of  character  which  we  are  accustomed  to  associate 
with  differences  of  belief.  I  am  persuaded  that  the  church  con- 
victions of  men  leave  the  deeper  elements  of  character  less  al- 
tered than  we  suppose." 

There  were  forms  of  Christian  service  also  in  which  he  was 
ever  ready  to  engage.  Repeatedly  during  his  busiest  profes- 
sional career  he  gave  his  time  to  the  instruction  of  Bible 
classes.  These  were  sometimes  formed  of  students  from  the 
college,  sometimes  of  young  and  middle-aged  business  men. 
They  were  held  in  connection  w4th  the  Sunday-school  of  the 
First  Baptist  Church.  The  book  of  Scripture  he  chose  to  teach 
was  the  Book  of  Proverbs.  He  regarded  its  ethics  as  the 
soundest  and  timeliest  practical  instruction.     It  was  his  delight 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  59 

to  find  the  same  root  for  Hebrew  and  for  Christian  ethics  in  the 
unchangeable  laws  of  right.  One  of  his  pupils  writes  in  refer- 
ence to  these  Bible  classes  :  "  Among  our  college  note-books 
especially  do  we  value  the  one  in  which  are  recorded  the  rich 
practical  thoughts  which  Sunday  after  Sunday  were  brought  to 
our  notice  in  these  lessons,  so  full  of  the  wisdom  of  Solomon." 
During  the  year  1851-52  he  was  superintendent  of  the  First 
Baptist  Sunday-school,  a  post  he  resigned  only  because  his  la- 
bors at  that  time  in  other  directions  had  become  too  much  for 
his  strength.  It  is  eminently  characteristic  of  him  that,  as  his 
carefully  written  report  shows,  his  first  aim  in  assuming  the  of- 
fice was  "  to  elevate  the  instruction  of  the  school,  and  give  to 
it  unity  of  aim  and  character  and  spirit."  He  sought  accord- 
ingly "means  of  awakening  a  deeper  interest  in  the  study  of 
the  Bible,  and  of  imparting  larger  and  more  comprehensive  and 
more  affecting  views  of  Christian  truth."  In  the  same  line  of 
work  he  was  accustomed  to  give  lectures  to  companies  of  stu- 
dents or  to  congregations,  in  which  the  relations  of  science  and 
religion  were  discussed.  One  such  course,  followed  by  large  au- 
diences, was  given  at  the  Central  Baptist  Church  in  the  winter 
and  spring  of  1869.  The  class  of  1870  in  Brown  University 
sent  him  a  petition  for  a  "  series  of  Sunday  afternoon  lectures 
concerning  the  relations  existing  between  science  and  revealed 
religion,"  and  the  petition  states  in  its  preamble  that  it  had  been 
"  his  custom  of  late  to  favor  the  senior  class  with  a  series  of 
Sunday  afternoon  lectures." 

Nothing  could  better  illustrate  the  spirit  by  which  all  his 
Christian  work  was  prompted  than  an  address  given  before  the 
Women's  City  Missionary  Society  of  the  city  of  Providence,  No- 
vember 10,  1879.     The  address  itself  is  one  of  great  force  and 


60  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

beauty ;  but  an  emphasis  is  added  to  the  whole  from  the  fact 
that  his  labors  in  the  same  direction  had  chastened  his  spirit, 
and  that  the  keen  practical  vision  which  was  so  quick  to  see  the 
wiser  methods  of  reformatory  effort  was  suffused  with  a  tender 
and  gracious  Christian  compassion.  There  is  one  portion  of  the 
address  which  may  well  stand  as  the  embodiment  of  his  later 
Christian  services.  And  those  who  love  and  cherish  his  memory 
will  gladly  see  it  reproduced  in  this  memorial,  as  the  medium 
through  which  they  may  look  to  contemplate  the  life  of  this 
gifted  man  of  science,  this  beloved  and  honored  teacher  :  — 

I  have  been  asked  for  suggestions  as  to  the  best  means  of  reaching 
the  classes  for  whose  benefit  your  missions  are  especially  intended.* 
Were  my  experience  in  laboring  for  the  good  of  others  far  greater  than 
it  has  been,  I  should  hardly  venture  to  indicate  any  change  in  methods 
of  which  the  wisdom,  in  your  hands,  has  been  strikingly  vindicated. 
The  work  of  making  men  better  is  found  by  all  who  have  tried  no 
easy  task.  The  labors  of  philanthropy,  in  whatever  direction,  are  of  all 
labors  the  most  discouraging.  "  Set  thyself  to  do  good,"  says  the  East- 
ern sage,  "  and  thou  shalt  have  sweet  moments  and  bitter  hours."  It 
is  everywhere  and  under  all  circumstances  up-hill  work  ;  and  too  often, 
when  we  hope  we  have  succeeded  in  helping  an  erring  brother  to  attain 
a  higher  moral  footing,  like  the  stone  of  the  fabled  Sisyphus  he  de- 
scends with  a  bound  to  the  level  from  which  he  started.  In  the  strug- 
gle to  overcome  the  evil  in  the  world  by  natural  forces,  the  odds  are 
greatly  against  us.  Depraved  and  selfish  natures,  low  desires  clam- 
orous for  gratification,  vicious  tastes  and  habits  constantly  gaining 
strength  from  indulgence,  with  a  perpetual  environment  of  tempta- 
tions, are  to  be  contended  with.  In  this  struggle,  mere  physical  ap- 
pliances are  unavailing.  They  may  for  a  time  restrain  the  evil  pro- 
pensities, but  they  have  no  power  to  cure  them.  Statesmanship  has 
labored  for  thousands  of  years  at  the  dark  problem,  but  has  found  no 
solution.     Its  wisest  laws  and  its  best  institutions  have  served  only  to 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  61 

abate  somewhat  the  evils  springing  from  man's  corrupt  nature.  Phi- 
losophy stands  appalled  at  the  magnitude  of  these  evils,  and  confesses 
herself  unequal  to  grappling  with  them.  There  is  only  one  remedy. 
That  remedy  is  the  quickening  of  the  moral  sentiments  which  lie  dor- 
mant in  every  human  bosom.  The  final  battle  between  good  and  evil 
is  to  be  fought  in  individual  souls.  It  is  regenerated  men  and  women 
that  are  to  regenerate  society  and  the  world. 

It  becomes,  then,  a  question  of  the  highest  importance  how  the  moral 
energies  slumbering  in  every  soul  can  be  best  aroused  and  brought 
into  conflict  with  the  hitherto  controlling  forces  of  evil,  and  a  victory 
and  permanent  control  over  the  latter  be  gained ;  how  a  worldly  char- 
acter, moulded  by  the  requirements  of  interest,  can  be  made  to  give 
place  to  one  of  nobler  type,  ever  prompting  its  possessor  to  works  of 
beneficence  and  charity. 

So  far  as  our  instrumentality  is  concerned,  the  question  seems  to  me 
not  a  difiicult  one  to  answer.  We  must  bring  ourselves  into  the  closest 
possible  relation  with  those  whom  we  seek  to  benefit.  Our  moral  im- 
pulses must  quicken  theirs ;  our  characters  must  help  to  form  and  ele- 
vate theirs.  It  is  useless  to  attempt  awakening  in  others  sentiments 
we  do  not  ourselves  feel,  or  imparting  to  them  ideals  which  we  do  not 
in  our  daily  lives  embody  and  exemplify.  It  is  not  the  sermon,  but 
the  man  back  of  the  sermon,  that  reaches  the  hearts  and  consciences  of 
his  hearers.  It  is  not  eloquence  of  speech  that  gives  power  to  the  ex- 
hortations of  the  Christian  brother,  but  his  known  character  and  life. 
Unless  these  be  in  harmony  with  his  words,  the  latter  fall  powerless 
upon  the  ear  of  the  listener,  or  awaken  in  him  only  disgust.  Pure, 
genuine  feeling  is  the  most  persuasive  of  exhorters.  A  noble  Christian 
character  is  the  most  eloquent  of  preachers. 

I  have  said  the  closer  we  place  ourselves  to  those  whom  we  would 
make  better,  the  greater  will  be  our  influence  over  them.  For  the  full- 
est effect,  it  should  be  mind  to  mind,  heart  to  heart,  soul  to  soul. 
When  the  prophet  would  impart  of  his  own  life  to  the  dead  son  of  the 
Shunamite,  he  stretched  himself  upon  the  child,  and  put  his  mouth 


62  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

upon  his  mouth,  and  his  eyes  upon  his  eyes,  and  his  hands  upon  his 
hands.  We  have  in  this  a  symbol  of  the  relationship  most  favorable 
to  the  impartation  of  spiritual  life ;  or,  to  borrow  another  illustration 
from  the  Scriptures,  the  leaven  must  be  diffused  through  the  mass,  in 
contact  with  every  part  of  it,  in  order  that  the  whole  lump  be  leavened. 
Its  modifying  power  is  strictly  limited  to  that  which  it  touches. 

There  are  some  who,  in  addition  to  an  abounding  Christian  charity, 
possess  a  rare  spiritual  tact  by  which  they  feel  their  way  into  the 
depths  of  the  soul,  and  there  touch  with  healing  finger  the  springs  of 
thought  and  action.  Although  this  God-given  power  is  denied  to  most 
of  us,  genuine  love  to  our  neighbor  and  an  earnest  desire  to  do  him 
good,  with  a  proper  regard  to  propriety  of  manner  and  occasion,  will 
open  the  way  to  his  better  feelings  and  bring  him  within  the  sphere 
of  our  Christian  injfluence.  No  one,  of  however  humble  abilities,  need 
fear  that  his  efforts,  if  put  forth  for  the  Master  and  in  his  spirit,  will 
be  in  vain.  The  water  that  is  spilt  upon  the  ground,  and  cannot  be 
gathered  up,  is  not  wholly  lost.  It  in  due  time  makes  the  earth 
greener. 

But  it  is  not  enough  that  the  moral  sentiments  be  wakened  and 
brought  into  an  active  state.  They  must  be  strengthened  and  fortified 
against  the  temptations  of  interest  and  the  assaults  of  appetite  and  pas- 
sion by  assiduous  culture.  The  Christian  care,  instruction,  and  over- 
sight of  those  who  have  commenced  a  new  life,  the  shielding  of  them 
from  the  dangers  of  evil  companionship,  is  of  the  greatest  importance. 
It  cannot  be  neglected  without  imminent  peril  to  the  good  work  begun. 
The  seed  that  fell  by  the  wayside,  had  the  fowls  been  kept  away  from 
it,  might  have  struck  root  into  the  hard  and  trodden  earth,  and  in  due 
time  brought  forth  fruit.  If  the  soil  of  the  stony  ground  had  been 
deepened  by  culture,  the  seed  that  sprung  upon  it  so  quickly  would  not 
as  quickly  have  withered  away. 

I  should  be  unjust  to  them,  and  fail  in  my  duty  to  you,  if  I  omitted 
to  say  there  is  another  side  to  the  picture.  Large  numbers  even  of 
those  who  by  their  errors  and  indiscretions  have  exposed  themselves  to 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  63 

the  law,  and  been  committed  to  the  guardianship  and  keeping  of  the 
State,  when  removed  from  the  temptations  which  society  places  around 
them,  are  found  to  be  kind-hearted,  faithful  to  their  obligations,  and 
ready  when  opportunity  offers  to  help  others.  They  are  by  nature 
weak  rather  than  bad.  They  are  quite  as  much  the  victims  of  society 
as  of  their  own  vicious  appetites  and  desires.  I  have  sometimes  thought 
that  if  our  Saviour  was  now  on  earth  He  would  find  among  these  his 
chosen  field  of  labor,  —  that  turning  from  the  proud  Pharisee,  from 
those  who  cry  Lord,  Lord,  who  prophesy  in  his  name  and  in  his  name 
do  many  wonderful  works.  He  would  seek  among  these  humble  and 
erring  ones  his  lost  sheep,  —  that  He  would  hunt  in  this,  to  the  human 
eye,  unpromising  ground,  for  the  lost  pieces  of  silver. 

The  life  thus  commemorated  ended  April  29,  1885.  The 
end  came  after  months  of  patient  waiting,  full  of  Christian 
calmness,  and  sacred,  in  view  of  the  anticipated  departure,  with 
affections  that  grew  only  more  tender  and  blessed  to  the  end. 
He  had  been  told  in  the  summer  before  that  a  mortal  disease 
was  upon  him.  Friends  could  only  note  in  him  a  shade  more 
of  gravity,  subduing  his  habitual  cheerfulness  into  quiet  resig- 
nation. It  was  never  his  characteristic  to  dwell  on  the  past. 
In  active  life,  he  was  wont  far  more  to  be  thinking  of  the  fu- 
ture, what  more  he  might  do,  how  life  could  be  brought  on- 
ward into  nobler  fruitage.  And  so  he  fixed  his  eye  on  the 
great  immortality.  His  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  imparted  abiding 
and  sustaining  hopes.  Together  with  her,  who  had  been  for 
many  years  the  gracious  and  stimulating  helper  of  his  labors  by 
her  unfailing  sympathies  and  truest  counsels;  who  had  made 
his  home  the  centre  of  his  being ;  with  whom  he  had  traversed 
much  of  our  best  literature,  and  whose  life  had  been  to  him  the 
most  prized  of  earthly  blessings,  he  loved  to  repeat  these  lines 
of  Mrs.  Barbauld  ;  — 


64  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

Life  !   We  've  been  long  together, 

Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather  : 

'T  is  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear  ; 

Perhaps  't  will  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear  ; 

Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 

Choose  thine  own  time. 
Say  not  Good-Night,  but  in  some  brighter  clime 

Bid  me  Good-Moruing, 

The  last  hours  were  hours  of  delirium.  But  through  this 
the  religious  spirit  was  seen  in  the  broken  prayers,  so  simple, 
yet  so  touching;  and  once  the  face  was  lighted  up  with  an 
unearthly  glow,  as  if  foregleams  of  the  blessed  immortality 
had  been  vouchsafed  the  dying  sufferer.  All  was  serenity 
and  perfect  peace  in  that  hour  when  his  spirit  returned  to 
God  who  gave  it.  The  funeral  services  were  held  in  the 
First  Baptist  Meeting-house,  at  eleven  o'clock,  on  the  Satur- 
day morning  following.  The  service  was  simple  —  in  strict 
accordance  with  the  wishes  of  the  dead  ;  his  pastor,  the  Rev. 
T.  Edwin  Brown,  D.  D.,  reading  the  customary  Scripture  les- 
son, and  offering  an  impressive  prayer.  The  hymns,  "  Abide 
with  me,"  and,  "  Lead,  kindly  light,"  were  sung  by  the  choir. 
The  mortal  remains  were  taken  to  Swan  Point  Cemetery  for 
interment.  There  they  rest,  near  the  city  he  loved  so  much, 
and  in  which,  for  more  than  half  a  century,  he  had  lived  and 
labored. 

The  tidings  of  his  death  carried  grief  into  a  wide  circle. 
The  city  of  Providence  felt  it  not  only  as  a  public  loss,  but 
to  many  of  its  circles  the  loss  was  keenly  personal.  The  city 
journals  all  gave  utterance  to  the  general  sorrow.  The  relig- 
ious and  secular  press  of  other  cities,  the  journals  of  education, 
ftll  united  in  the  tribute  to  his  memory,  as  of  one  who  had 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  65 

brightened  and  blessed  life  for  many,  who  had  been  a  faithful 
steward  of  God's  gifts,  and  in  whom  life,  in  the  blending  of 
scholarly  acquirements  with  Christian  faith,  had  reached  rare 
completeness  and  f  uUness.  Every  institution  with  which  he  had 
been  connected,  from  the  college  where  he  had  so  long  labored 
to  the  hospital  he  had  so  devotedly  cared  for,  passed  resolutions 
of  respect  to  his  memory.  And  when  the  annual  Commence- 
ment of  the  college  came,  at  which  for  so  many  years  his 
figure  had  been  among  the  most  conspicuous,  eagerly  sought  for 
by  his  old  pupils,  and  the  alumni  came  together  at  their  annual 
meeting,  the  one  thought  weighing  on  all  hearts  was  that  Pro- 
fessor Chace  had  gone  from  them.  The  deep  sense  of  bereave- 
ment was  only  quickened  when  the  announcement  came  that  he 
had  given  new  proof  of  his  unfaltering  love  for  the  college  he 
had  served  so  long  and  so  brilliantly  by  a  bequest  securing 
two  scholarships,  one  of  $4,000  and  the  other  of  $5,000  in 
value,  to  be  awarded  by  the  faculty.  The  sense  of  his  gener- 
osity, as  well  as  of  his  thoughtful  devotion  to  the  institution, 
only  made  the  grief  over  his  departure  more  poignant.  The 
deep  feeling  of  the  alumni  found  expression  in  addresses,  two 
of  which  are  here  given  :  — 

Professor  John  L.  Lincoln  offered  the  following  tribute  of  respect 
to  the  late  Professor  George  I.  Chace,  which  was  ordered  to  be  entered 
on  the  minutes  of  the  meeting :  — 

The  members  of  the  Alumni  Association,  assembled  at  their  annual 
reunion,  desire  to  express  their  deep  regret  at  the  death  of  George 
Ide  Chace,  a  graduate  of  the  class  of  1830,  and  a  teacher  in  the  uni- 
versity for  more  than  forty  years.  Some  of  our  number  remember 
him  with  love  as  a  fellow-student,  very  many  with  profound  respect 
and  gratitude  as  an  instructor,  and  all  of  us  with  admiration  and 
6 


66  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

pride  as  an  ever  dutiful  and  honored  son  of  our  common  Alma  Mater. 
The  promise  which  he  gave  in  youth,  by  his  high  rank  as  a  student 
and  a  scholar  in  his  under-graduate  course,  was  amply  fulfilled  by  the 
numerous  and  eminently  successful  and  useful  services  which  he  ren- 
dered in  manhood  and  age,  both  within  and  without  the  walls  of  the  uni- 
versity. In  looking  back  over  his  brilliant  career  as  a  college  teacher, 
we  observe  as  one  of  its  signal  distinctions  the  variety  and  diversity 
of  the  departments  in  which  he  gave  instruction,  and  also  their  great 
value  as  means  of  education.  Beginning  with  mathematics  and  me- 
chanical philosophy,  he  was  afterwards,  for  more,  than  thirty  years,  a 
professor  in  different  departments  of  physical  science ;  and  finally,  in 
obedience  to  the  call  of  the  university,  at  a  critical  period  of  its  his- 
tory, he  gave  himself  to  the  teaching  of  metaphysics  and  ethics.  His 
rare  ability  in  all  these  sciences,  both  in  the  investigation  and  in  the 
communication  of  truth;  his  clearness  and  fullness  of  comprehension 
in  the  statement  of  principles,  and  his  skill  and  aptness  in  their  illus- 
tration ;  the  stimulating  influence  of  his  instructions  towards  the  pur- 
suit and  acquisition  of  sound  knowledge,  and  their  moulding  moral 
force  in  producing  right  habits  of  thinking  and  noble  forms  of  char- 
acter,—  all  these  will  ever  be  cherished  by  his  pupils  among  the  choic- 
est memories  of  their  college  education,  and  be  treasured  in  the  history 
of  our  university  among  the  best  elements  of  its  fame  and  usefulness. 
And  while  we  thus  recall,  as  alumni  of  this  university,  the  useful 
services  of  Professor  Chace's  long  professional  career,  we  would  not 
forget  the  new  course  of  service,  no  less  useful,  on  which  he  entered 
at  the  completion  of  that  career.  He  might  reasonably  have  then 
sought  a  studious  retirement,  where  he  might  spend  his  declining  years 
in  meditation  upon  the  elevated  themes  of  philosophy  and  religion  so 
familiar  to  him  by  nature  and  by  habit.  But  so  strong  were  his  ten- 
dencies to  useful  action,  he  saw  so  keenly  the  need  of  such  action  in 
the  world,  the  good  that  imperatively  needed  to  be  done  and  the  evil 
to  be  undone,  that  he  then  gave  himself  with  fresh  zeal  and  devotion 
to  the  promotion  of  the  great  interests  of  philanthropy,  morality,  and 


GEORGE   IDE   CHACE.  67 

religion,  in  connection  with  charitable  and  public  institutions  in  Rhode 
Island.  This  feature  of  Professor  Chace's  life  and  character  reminds 
one  of  the  words  of  a  Latin  poet,  said  of  a  great  Roman,  who  was  a 
man  alike  of  action  and  of  thought :  — 

"  Nil  actum  credens,   dumquid  superesset  agendum." 

So  it  was  with  Professor  Chace,  that  he  thought  "  nothing  done  so 
long  as  anything  remained  to  be  done."  So  was  it,  also,  with  him  as 
a  Christian  man,  that  with  the  aim  and  spirit  of  a  life  to  be  lived  not 
for  self,  but  for  others,  he  gave  his  best  thoughts  and  efforts  to  wise 
and  beneficent  measures  for  the  cure  of  the  sick,  for  the  care  of  the 
insane,  the  instruction  of  the  ignorant,  and  the  reformation  of  the 
vicious.     Such  was  the  end  that  crowned  the  work  of  his  life. 

The  alumni,  desiring  to  preserve  his  memory,  direct  that  this  min- 
ute be  entered  upon  their  records ;  also  that  a  copy  of  it  be  sent  to 
Mrs.  Chace. 

Colonel  William  Goddard  then  addressed  the  Alumni  as 
follows :  — 

Any  tribute  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  Professor  Chace  would 
command  my  warm  approval.  But  I  think  it  is  peculiarly  fitting 
that  the  alumni  of  Brown  University  should  confess  their  obligations 
to  this  great  teacher,  and  record  their  high  respect  for  his  memory. 
While  in  all  the  relations  of  life  his  character  and  services  must 
challenge  our  admiration,  it  was  within  these  college  walls  that  this 
good  tree  brought  forth  its  best  fruit.  Here  for  forty  years  he 
worked  with  unremitting  zeal,  teaching  and  testifying  the  value  of  lib- 
eral studies  and  of  exact  scientific  investigations,  and  patiently  strug- 
gling with  the  dullness  of  apprehension  and  the  undeveloped  faculties 
of  generations  of  his  pupils.  And  what  a  work  it  was !  He  imparted 
instruction  in  more  branches  of  learning  than  any  teacher  I  ever 
knew,  and  his  knowledge  of  each  was  accurate.  He  impressed  his 
pupils  with  the  importance  of  thorough  preparation  by  study,  but  he 
had  the  gift,  possessed  only  by  the  really  great  teachers,  of  developing 


68  GEORGE  IDE   CHACE. 

their  powers  of  reasoning  and  of  disclosing  to  them  the  undiscovered 
paths  of  original  investigation.  And  he  taught  them  what  may  be 
done  with  life  by  those  who  know  how  to  employ  it.  I  do  not  think 
Professor  Chace  was  endowed  with  what  is  called  personal  magnetism. 
His  manners  were  constrained  and  sometimes  even  severe.  But  no 
student  who  came  in  contact  with  him  ever  doubted  the  warmth  of  his 
heart  and  the  justness  of  his  character  any  more  than  he  questioned 
his  intellectual  powers.  His  hold  upon  his  pupils  was  therefore  due 
to  no  fascination  of  manners,  to  no  merely  artificial  gifts.  It  was 
founded  upon  faith  in  the  man,  and  it  was  enforced  by  the  range  and 
acuteness  of  an  intellect  whose  power  has  never,  in  my  judgment, 
been  fully  estimated.  His  pupils  were  content  to  lean  upon  his  strong 
arm  as  he  upheld  the  torch  which  illumined  the  dark  mines  of  sci- 
ence, and  they  listened  with  eagerness  and  rapture  to  the  voice  that 
made  clear  the  mysteries  of  metaphysical  studies  and  declared  to  them 
the  eternal  verities  of  Christian  philosophy.  And  so  to-day  the  grad- 
uates of  the  old  college,  in  whose  service  he  spent  so  much  of  his 
honorable  life,  pause  amid  these  festal  scenes  to  recall  with  grateful 
hearts  all  that  this  illustrious  teacher  has  done,  and  in  broken  accents 
to  speak  once  more  of  their  love  and  veneration  for  him.  His  toil 
was  long  —  let  us  who  enjoy  its  fruits  hold  his  name  and  services  in 
perpetual  remembrance. 

Mr.  President,  a  less  magnanimous  man  than  Professor  Chace  might 
have  grieved  over  the  treatment  he  received  from  the  government  of 
the  college  after  he  ceased  to  be  one  of  its  officers  of  instruction.  It 
is  to  the  lasting  discredit  of  the  corporation  that  they  constantly 
refused  to  admit  this  man  to  any  part  in  the  government  of  the  uni- 
versity for  whose  highest  interest  he  had  done  so  much,  and  whose 
welfare  was  always  an  object  of  his  deepest  concern.  But  Professor 
Chace  knew  how  to  distinguish  between  the  college  and  its  govern- 
ment ;  between  catholic  and  comprehensive  aims  and  purposes,  and 
the  narrowness  of  sect  and  petty  individual  jealousies.  He  never 
faltered  in  his  love  for  the  old  college,   happy  in   the  thought  that 


GEORGE  IDE   CHACE.  69 

"  the  boys  would  stand  by  him."  The  kindly  voice  of  our  great 
teacher  is  hushed  forever  ;  the  hand  which  guided  us  through  the 
paths  of  learning  is  stiffened  in  death ;  but  the  boys  stand  by  his 
memory  as  he  stood  by  us,  when  "  the  night  was  dark  and  we  were  far 
from  home." 

The  reward  of  a  teacher  is  found,  most  of  all,  in  the  grati- 
tude and  veneration  of  his  pupils.  In  days  of  student -life 
they  may  not  always  fully  appreciate  his  worth.  But  in  after 
years,  when  the  perception  of  what  worth  was  in  the  teacher 
and  his  teachings  becomes  more  clear  and  ripened  powers  en- 
able a  truer  estimate,  then  the  tribute  surely  comes.  It  is  the 
high  meed  of  praise  due  Professor  Chace  that  the  tribute  laid 
on  his  honored  grave,  in  the  reverent  and  affectionate  esteem  of 
the  long  line  of  his  pupils,  began  in  college  days,  only  to  grow 
deeper,  stronger,  and  purer  throughout  life. 


LIST  OF  CONTRIBUTIONS  TO  REVIEWS. 


Of  the  Dependence  of  the  Mental  Powers  upon  the  Bodily  Orga- 
nization.    BiUiotheca  Sacra,  August,  1849,  pp.  534-558. 
Of  the  Natural  Proofs  of  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul.    Bihliotheca 

Sacra,  February,  1849,  pp.  48-75. 
Bowen's  Lectures.     (Metaphysical  and  Ethical  Science  and  the  Evidences 

of  Religion.)     The  Christian  Review,  January,  1850,  pp.  78-94. 
Of  the  Existence  and  Natural  Attributes   of  the  Divine  Being. 

Bibliotheca  Sacra,  April,  1850,  pp.  328-352. 
Of  the  Divine  Agency  in  the  Production  of  Material  Phenomena. 

Bihliotheca  Sacra,  May,  1848,  pp.  342-357. 
Of  Spirit  and  the  Constitution  of  Spiritual  Beings.      Bihliotheca 

Sacra,  November,  1848,  pp.  633-650. 
Of  the  Moral   Attributes   of  the  Divine  Being.     Bihliotheca  Sacra, 

October,  1850,  pp.  668-696. 
Origin  of  the  Human  Race.       The  Christian  Review,  April,  1851,  pp. 

226-244. 
Sir   William    Hamilton's    Discussions.       (Philosophy  and   Literature.) 

The  Christian  Review,  January,  1854,  pp.  39-72. 
The  Persistence   of   Physical  Laws.     North   American  Review,   July, 

1855,  pp.  159-194. 
The  Causal  Judgment.      The  Baptist  Quarterly,  April,  1869,  pp.  157- 

167. 
The  Realm  of  Faith.     The  Baptist  Quarterly,  January,  1871,  pp.  42-57. 
Review  of  Rowland  G.  Hazard's   "Man  a  Creative  First  Cause." 

Andover  Review,  December  1884. 


LECTURES  AND  ESSAYS. 


THE  EXISTENCE  OF  GOD.^ 


LECTURE   I. 

The  argument  for  an  intelligent  Author  of  nature,  from  the 
indications  of  design  in  the  world  around  us,  though  not  wholly 
discredited,  has  been  held  in  much  less  esteem  of  late  years 
than  formerly.  Several  causes  have  contributed  to  this.  In 
the  first  place,  the  physical  sciences,  while  they  have  vastly  en- 
larged our  conceptions  of  the  material  universe,  and  enabled  us 
to  trace  back,  step  by  step,  a  multitude  of  phenomena  to  the 
sources  from  which  they  immediately  spring,  discover  in  these 
sources  no  indications  of  a  personal  intelligence  or  will.  All 
that  science  reveals  is  a  mysterious  and  inscrutable  energy,  in- 
separable from  matter,  and  determined  in  its  manifestations 
solely  by  physical  conditions.  When  these  conditions  are  sup- 
plied, the  manifestation  takes  place,  no  matter  what  the  attend- 
ant circumstances  or  the  immediate  results ;  as  well  for  evil  as 
for  good ;  as  readily  for  destroying  life  as  for  saving  it.  The 
power  awakened  is  heedless  of  all  moral  distinctions,  and  blind 
to  the  consequences  of  its  own  action.  This  absence  of  any 
appearance  of  will  or  purpose  in  the  activities  of  nature  has  led 
men  of  science  to  seek  an  explanation  of  her  adaptations  and 
harmonies  in  theories  of  spontaneous  evolution.  Assuming  the 
eternity  of  matter  and  force,  they  have  attempted  from  these 

*  This  course  of  lectures  was  delivered  before  the  Faculty  and  Students  of  the 
Newton  Theological  Institution  in  the  winter  of  1876. 


74  THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD. 

data  alone  to  solve  the  problem  of  the  universe.  The  whole 
world,  organic  and  inorganic,  has  been  put  under  contribution 
for  analogies  and  facts  in  support  of  some  of  these  theories. 
The  comparatively  recent  doctrine  of  the  conservation  of  energy, 
which  makes  force,  like  matter,  indestructible,  however  far  from 
being  established,  has  been  pressed  into  their  service.  Popular- 
ized and  brought  to  a  level  with  all  understandings,  the  idea  of 
creation  as  a  mere  series  of  developments  has  been  disseminated 
through  lectures,  through  periodicals,  and  through  books,  until 
the  universal  mind  has  become  affected  by  it,  and  men  who  by 
no  means  accept  the  teaching  are  inclined  to  regard  with  less 
favor  the  argument  of  Paley  and  Butler,  and,  indeed,  all  rea- 
soning from  what  are  called  final  causes.  They  seek  other  war- 
rant for  their  belief  in  an  intelligent  author  and  moral  governor 
of  the  universe. 

In  the  second  place,  the  many  and  confessedly  great  difficul- 
ties attendant  upon  every  form  of  theism  ;  the  origin  and  con- 
tinued existence  of  moral  and  physical  evil,  and  the  extent  to 
which  they  cast  their  dark  shadow  over  human  society,  des- 
tined, as  most  creeds  teach  us,  not  gradually  to  melt  away  and 
at  length  disappear,  but  to  stretch  onward  to  another  world, 
there  only  to  become  darker  and  more  appalling ;  the  part 
which  chance  seems  to  play  in  human  affairs ;  the  irregulari- 
ties and  disorders  everywhere  apparent,  virtue  overborne  and 
vice  prosperous,  merit  neglected  and  charlatanry  of  every  kind 
rewarded ;  and,  I  may  add,  the  dumbness  of  oracles  and  the 
silence  of  the  grave,  —  these  have  driven  minds  of  a  certain 
cast,  in  which  feeling  and  sentiment  predominate  over  the  log- 
ical faculty,  from  the  beliefs  of  the  race  into  a  vague,  dreamy 
pantheism.     Without  attempting  its  correlation  with  actual  phe- 


THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD.  75 

nomena,  they  imagine  through  all  nature*  a  certain  mysterious 
energy,  impersonal  and  unconscious,  ever  welling  up  out  of  the 
bosom  of  what  we  call  matter,  and  filling  all  around  with  its 
myriad  creations.     These  creations,  after  a  transient  and  merely 
phenomenal  existence,  sink  back  to  the  source  from  which  they 
came.     Man,  the  highest  of  them,  is  but  a  bubble  on  a  vast 
ocean.     The  bubble  breaks,  and  the  tiny  drops  mingle  with  the 
mass  of  waters,  again  to  be  thrown  up  at  some  other  point  with 
a  form  equally  evanescent.      This  species  of   mystic  and  un- 
formulated pantheism,  entirely  unlike  that  of  Spinoza,  which, 
though  resting  upon  an  insecure  foundation,  was  faultlessly  log- 
ical in  structure,  has  found  its  way,  to  a  large  extent,  into  mod- 
ern literature,  —  remarkably  in  contrast  in  this  respect  with  that 
of  the  Elizabethan  age,  —  and  is  through  this  exerting  upon 
multitudes  its   seductive   and   enervating   influence.     Its  very 
vagueness  makes  it  only  the  more  dangerous.     If  without  the 
veil  of  sentiment,  which  is  thrown  over  it,  it  were  clearly  and 
nakedly  presented,  it  would  lose  all  its  attractions.     The  de- 
mands of  neither  head  nor  heart  would  be  satisfied  by  it.     It 
is  through  the  power  of  imagery  and  the  charms  of  language 
that  the  subtle  poison  finds  its  way  to  the  soul.     With  those 
who  have  come  under  its  palsying  efFect,  reasoning  of  any  kind 
is  rarely  of  much  avail.     But  argument  from  design,  the  force 
of  which  is  not  admitted,  would  seem  in  their  case  to  be  espe- 
cially inappropriate. 

In  the  third  place,  on  account  of  the  difficulties  met  in  prov- 
ing the  existence  of  a  personal  God  from  the  works  of  creation, 
many  devout  thinkers  have  turned  from  the  outward  world  to 
the  mind  itself,  to  reach  through  this,  if  possible,  the  same 
result  by  a  shorter  and  more  direct  method ;  to  find  a  sure  basis 


76  THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD. 

for  their  belief,  not  in  argument,  but  in  immediate  intuitions, 
in  the  ideas  of  the  reason,  in  the  affirmations  of  the  intelli- 
gence, in  the  sense  of  duty,  in  the  feeling  of  dependence,  in 
the  impulse  to  worship,  —  in  a  word,  in  what  has  been  called 
the  God-consciousness  of  the  soul,  underlying  and  giving  sup- 
port to  all  the  different  faiths  which  have  swayed  mankind. 
While  not  disposed  to  undervalue  these  inner  testimonies  to 
the  sublimest  as  well  as  the  most  important  of  truths,  and  be- 
lieving fully  that  the  mind  is  constituted  in  harmony  with  it, 
I  am  stni  inclined  to  think  that  the  most  direct  and  sure  way  of 
arriving  at  a  knowledge  of  the  being  and  attributes  of  God  is 
through  His  works.  We  cannot  in  any  proper  sense  be  said  to 
be  conscious  of  His  existence.  Our  assurance  of  the  fact  must 
come  from  the  manifestations  which  He  has  made  of  Himself. 
We  must  learn  from  these,  if  at  all,  his  character.  A  priori 
reasoning  has  here  no  place.  Neither  can  we  pass,  by  inference, 
from  mere  ideas  in  the  mind  to  corresponding  outward  realities. 
Unless  the  Creator  has  left  the  marks  of  his  hand  upon  the 
things  which  He  has  made,  without  a  direct  revelation  we  must 
forever  remain  in  ignorance  of  Him.  The  signs  of  intelligence 
as  well  as  of  power,  of  design  and  purpose  visible  in  every 
part  of  creation,  must  furnish  the  clue  to  a  knowledge  of  its 
author.  Nor  need  we  fear  mistake  or  deception  in  following  it. 
It  is  in  the  direction  of  the  natural  and  habitual  movement  of 
the  rational  faculty.  The  process  is  similar  to  that  by  which 
we  become  acquainted  with  the  characters  of  our  fellow-men. 
The  inferences  involved,  though  not,  perhaps,  so  immediate,  are 
of  the  same  nature  and  equally  legitimate. 

Nor  is  the  argument  for  the  divine  existence  from  the  indi- 
cations of  mind  in  the  world  around  us  weakened  or  in  any 


THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD.  77 

manner  affected  by  recent  discoveries  in  science.  These,  by  ex- 
tending the  area  of  our  knowledge,  have  only  enlarged  the 
premises  from  which  it  derives  its  conclusion.  Science  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  origin  of  phenomena.  Beyond  their  mere 
observation  and  classification,  its  office  is  strictly  limited  to  the 
ascertainment  of  the  conditions  and  order  of  their  occurrence. 
It  has  no  line  long  enough  to  fathom  the  source  from  which  a 
single  phenomenon  arises.  Its  want  of  knowledge  here  is  abso- 
lute. The  hypothesis  of  material  atoms  and  of  attraction  and 
repulsion,  energies  proceeding  from  them,  by  which  it  seeks  to 
supply  this  want,  is  a  pure  figment  of  the  imagination.  The 
origin  and  nature  of  the  forces  which  appear  m  matter  are  as 
inscrutable  to  science  as  the  thoughts  of  the  Infinite  One.  All 
that  can  be  said  is  that  they  emerge,  if  not  from  absolute 
points,  from  spheres  so  inconceivably  minute  that  the  most  pow- 
erful microscope  utterly  fails  to  disclose  them.  The  intimate 
movements  of  the  atoms,  if  such  they  be,  upon  which  all  out- 
ward visible  changes  are  dependent,  are  hidden  from  human 
view  by  an  impenetrable  veil.  The  continuous  efforts  of  the 
most  powerful  intellects  for  forty  centuries  have  failed  to  lift  a 
single  corner  of  it.  The  realm  beneath  that  veil  will  continue 
to  be,  as  heretofore,  a  region  of  conjecture  and  hypothesis  ;  and 
every  adequate  hypothesis  will  include  an  insoluble  mystery,  — 
the  emergence  of  force  which,  whether  from  something  or  from 
nothing,  is  as  unthinkable  as  creation.  In  truth,  the  explana- 
tory power  of  the  hypothesis  depends  upon  the  nucleus  of  su- 
pernaturalism,  which  it  enfolds.  God  is  embosomed  in  it.  The 
mere  sciolist  does  not  perceive  this.  But  men  of  deeper  insight, 
such  as  the  Tyndalls,  the  Huxleys,  and  the  Spencers,  are  com- 
pelled to  acknowledge  it,  though  in  language  less  explicit  than 
could  be  desired. 


78  THE   EXISTENCE   OF  GOD. 

The  only  way  in  which  modern  investigation  has  influenced, 
or  can  be  imagined  hereafter,  however  far  it  may  be  carried,  to 
influence  natural  theology,  is  in  furnishing  ampler,  better,  and 
better  assorted  materials  for  the  construction  of  the  science. 
The  foundations  upon  which  the  science  rests  are  quite  out  of 
its  reach.  Should  any  of  the  theories  of  evolution  on  which 
minds  of  a  speculative  tendency  have  been  at  work  for  so  many 
centuries  ever  be  established,  they  will  come  in  merely  as  illus- 
trations of  the  mode  of  the  divine  working. 

Nor  is  the  argument  from  design  weakened  or  neutralized  by 
the  reveries  of  a  bewildered  and  bewildering  pantheism.  On 
the  contrary,  it  cuts  right  through  the  mist  and  haze,  and  opens 
to  view  the  clear  azure  beyond.  If  there  is  anything  that  will 
rouse  the  mystic  dreamer  to  a  right,  manly,  and  vigorous  use  of 
his  reasoning  faculties,  it  is  to  confront  him  on  the  one  hand 
with  the  evidences  of  design  in  nature,  and  on  the  other  with 
the  mighty  power  within  or  behind  nature,  ceaselessly  carrying 
forward,  through  her  vast  machinery,  the  beneficent  ends  so 
manifestly  had  in  view.  If,  when  thus  brought  face  to  face 
with  the  power  of  God  and  the  certified  works  of  God,  his 
dreams  do  not  dissolve,  nothing,  it  would  seem,  short  of  the 
visible  presence  of  the  Being  whose  existence  he  refuses  to 
admit  would  be  sufficient  to  dispel  them. 

I  am  persuaded  that  theism  has  lost  ground  in  suffering  it- 
self to  be  drawn  away  from  the  old  beaten  track  marked  out  so 
long  ago  by  Hebrew  prophets  and  Grecian  sages,  into  new  and 
more  direct  paths  supposed  to  lead  to  the  same  end.  By  no  other 
road  can  the  mind  arrive  at  such  assurance  of  a  personal  Deity. 
In  no  other  way  can  it  hope  to  learn  the  attributes  of.  that 
Deity.     It  is  through  final,  and  not  through  efficient,  causes 


THE  EXISTENCE  OF  GOD.  79 

that  the  divine  character  is  revealed.  It  is  by  studying  these, 
and  these  alone,  that  we  become  acquainted  with  it.  All  other 
proposed  ways,  whether  starting  from  the  data  of  consciousness, 
or  from  outward,  observed  phenomena,  if  strictly  followed,  con- 
duct us  only  to  "  an  unknown  and  inscrutable  reality  lying  be- 
hind appearances,"  to  borrow  the  language  of  Herbert  Spencer, 
or,  in  the  bolder  and  franker  words  of  Mr.  Tyndall,  to  a  recog- 
nition in  "  that  matter  which  we  in  our  ignorance  have  hitherto 
covered  with  opprobrium  "  of  "  the  promise  and  potency  of 
every  form  and  quahty  of  life."  I  assume,  in  saying  this,  that 
the  validity  of  the  causal  intuition  is  admitted.  If  it  is  not,  if 
the  authority  of  this  be  rejected,  then  there  remains  only  the 
idealism  of  Hume  or  the  phenomenalism  of  Compte.  The  surest 
defense  against  any  of  the  forms  of  unbelief  is  a  solid  wall  of 
theism,  having  its  foundation  in  the  evidences  of  thought  and 
purpose  in  nature,  and  buttressed  and  coped  by  the  truths  of 
revelation.  Such  a  theism,  while  furnishing  efficient  correctives 
for  the  vagaries  of  the  imagination  and  intellect,  would  also  ad- 
minister deserved  rebuke  to  the  bitterness  of  sects  and  the  nar- 
rowness of  creeds.  A  broader  and  more  beneficent  Hght  would 
shine  from  it  upon  all  God's  creatures.  In  that  light  many  sup- 
posed difficulties  would  vanish.  I  propose,  therefore,  briefly  to 
state  and  examine  the  argument  for  the  divine  existence  from 
the  indications  of  intelligence  and  design  in  the  outward  world, 
and  see  whether  it  have  indeed  lost  its  claim  to  our  respect  and 
confidence,  or  whether  it  still  remains  intact  alike  in  its  prem- 
ises, in  its  reasoning,  and  in  the  conclusion  to  which  it  conducts 
us ;  nay,  whether  that  conclusion  be  not  supported  and  con- 
firmed by  all  collateral  testimonies.  Something  of  this  kind,  if 
I  mistake  not,  is  demanded  by  the  pressure  and  drift  of  the 


80  THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD. 

times.  The  air  is  heavy  with  unbelief.  It  is  not  merely  a 
questioning  of  scriptural  or  traditional  dogma.  The  doubt  ex- 
tends to  the  foundations  of  religious  faith.  When  men  eminent 
in  science  tell  us  that  everything  lying  beyond  the  sphere  of 
the  senses  is  but  "  lunar  politics,"  of  which  we  know  nothing 
and  can  know  nothing,  and  about  which  it  is  a  waste  of  time  to 
speculate  ;  when  the  astronomer  refuses  to  admit  the  existence 
of  God  because  he  cannot  with  his  telescope  see  Him  rolling  the 
spheres  through  space ;  and  the  chemist  withholds  his  assent  to 
the  reality  of  spirit  because  he  cannot  precipitate  it  in  a  bfeaker 
glass,  or  obtain  it  as  a  residue  in  an  evaporating  dish,  or  collect 
it  as  a  distillate  in  an  alembic,  it  does  not  become  the  Christian 
theist  to  keep  silence.  Beliefs  more  precious  to  him  than  life, 
which  impart  to  existence  its  dignity  and  worth ;  beliefs  more 
important  to  the  welfare  of  mankind  than  all  that  science  has 
achieved,  or  ever  can  achieve ;  beliefs  essential  to  the  continu- 
ance and  safety  of  organized  society,  are  ruthlessly  attacked,  and 
it  behooves  him  to  appear  in  their  defense,  and  with  all  sincer- 
ity and  truthfulness  show  the  grounds  of  the  faith  that  is  in 
him. 

NATURE    OF   THE   ARGUMENT. 

The  argument  for  an  intelligent  Creator  from  the  indications 
of  design  in  the  outward  world  rests  primarily  on  the  causal 
judgment,  —  one  of  the  clearest  affirmations  of  the  intelligence. 
JSx  nihilOf  nihil  Jit.  Nothing  can  come  into  existence  of  itself. 
Events  do  not  happen.  For  every  change,  wherever  or  when- 
ever occurring,  there  must  be  a  cause  or  causes  adequate  to  pro- 
duce it.  The  requirement  of  adequacy,  in  respect  to  both  na- 
ture  and   efficiency,  is   included   in  the   judgment,  and  is  as 


THE  EXISTENCE  OF  GOD.  81 

absolute  as  the  requirement  of  cause.  If  the  change  observed 
have  manifest  relation  to  something  beyond  as  an  end,  we  as- 
cribe intelligence  to  the  source  from  which  it  proceeds.  If  the 
end  is  perceived  to  be  worthy  and  good,  the  evidence  of  intelli- 
gence becomes  clearer,  and  is  less  open  to  question.  As  intelli- 
gence can  be  conceived  to  manifest  itself  in  action  only  through 
will,  we  ascribe  this  also  to  the  cause  producing  the  change. 

If  a  large  number  of  specially  adopted  movements  or  changes 
look  to  the  same  end,  the  inference  of  power  back  of  them,  act- 
ing under  the  guidance  of  intelligence  and  by  direction  of  will, 
is  proportionally  strengthened. 

If  many  ends,  diverse  in  character,  but  all  worthy,  are  reached 
each  by  appropriate  means,  we  have  there  the  strongest  assur- 
ance possible  of  the  concurrence  of  intelligence  and  will,  as  well 
as  power  in  securing  them. 

If  these  ends  appear  in  turn  as  means  to  high  ends,  and  these 
to  yet  higher,  until  they  are  all  at  length  merged  in  the  single 
end  of  ministry  to  happiness,  we  are  then  led  by  the  causal  judg- 
ment to  ascribe  benevolence  as  well  as  power,  intelligence,  and 
will  to  the  author  of  the  contrivances.  Benevolence  is  an  at- 
tribute of  character.  Its  manifestation  is  evidence  of  character. 
We  have  then  in  the  author  of  the  supposed  contrivance  all  the 
attributes  essential  to  personality.  A  being  endowed  with  in- 
telligence and  possessing  will,  power,  and  character,  is  a  person 
in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word. 

It  is  immaterial  to  the  argument  in  what  manner  the  cause 
acts,  —  whether  mediately  or  immediately,  whether  during  each 
successive  moment  of  time  or  once  for  all  time.  It  is  the  re- 
sult of  the  action,  objects  accomplished  by  it,  that  disclose  the 
character  of  the  actor.  Words  do  not  express  ideas  less  clearly 
6 


82  THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD. 

on  account  of  the  complex  apparatus  of  brain,  nerves,  and  mus- 
cles intervening  between  the  thought  and  its  vocal  sign.  It  is 
only  when  our  attention  is  called  to  the  subject  that  we  think 
of  the  interposed  mechanisms.  A  constitution  of  government 
whose  wise  provisions  continue  to  yield  their  beneficent  fruits 
through  many  successive  generations  affords  evidence  of  as 
large  an  intelligence  and  humanity  as  a  work  whose  benefits  are 
more  immediate. 

If  the  end  is  not  reached  directly,  but  by  the  use  of  means  and 
instrumentalities,  the  indications  of  mind  are  not  the  less  clear 
on  this  account.  On  the  contrary,  we  have  in  the  devices  for 
securing  the  end  proof  of  mind  in  higher  and  more  prolonged 
action.  Remoteness  of  end  and  complexity  in  the  means  em- 
ployed for  attaining  it  suppose  a  corresponding  extent  of  con- 
trivance and  reach  of  design.  An  article  for  use  or  wear,  as  a 
spade  or  a  boot,  when  made  by  hand,  is  proof  of  intelligence 
and  purpose.  But  it  is  evidence  of  a  higher  degree  of  intelli- 
gence and  of  a  larger  purpose  when  it  is  the  rapid  and  contin- 
uous product  of  ingeniously  constructed  machinery. 

The  numerous  discoveries  and  inventions  by  which  natural 
forces  have  been  brought  under  human  control,  and  the  still 
more  numerous  contrivances  by  which  these  forces,  when  thus 
under  control,  have  been  made  so  largely  tributary  to  the  well- 
being  of  society  and  the  progress  of  the  race,  are  among  the 
highest  evidences  of  mind  as  well  as  the  noblest  proof  of  its  dig- 
nity and  worth  afforded  by  modern  times.  Should  we  imagine 
discovery  and  invention  still  to  go  forward,  until  at  length  the 
whole  realm  of  nature  should  be  brought  under  the  dominion  of 
man,  and  all  her  agents  be  made  subservient  to  his  uses,  and  the 
burden  of  toil  be  finally  lifted  from  human  shoulders,  no  loftier 
conception  of  the  achievement  of  mere  intellect  could  be  formed. 


THE  EXISTENCE   OF   GOD.  83 

Were  such  an  imagined  state  of  things  to  be  realized,  I  may 
here  remark,  and  were  a  being  of  a  lower  order  of  inteUigence  to 
be  admitted  to  the  scene,  seeing  everything  that  could  gratify 
the  desire  of  man  spontaneously  produced  and  delivered  to  his 
hand,  he  would  naturally  seek  an  explanation  of  the  wonderful 
phenomenon.  Finding  only  shafts  and  wheels  and  arms  and 
levers  in  rapid  movement,  the  point  where  the  power  was  ap- 
plied being  hidden  from  sight,  he  might  suppose  they  contained 
within  themselves  the  cause  of  their  motions.  If  the  period  of 
observation  were  brief,  so  that  no  change  was  noticed  in  the  ma- 
chinery or  in  its  working,  he  might  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  had  always  existed  and  always  been  in  operation  ;  or  if  signs 
of  former  changes  were  discovered  incompatible  with  this  hy- 
pothesis, he  might  suppose  that  it  was  self-formed  as  well  as 
self-acting.  Would  this  be  more  remarkable  than  the  analogous 
conclusion  reached  by  men  who  are  no  mean  thinkers  touching 
the  works  of  God  ? 

The  kind  of  reasoning  whose  nature  and  validity  I  have  en- 
deavored to  show  is  so  familiar  to  us,  we  are  so  constantly 
practicing  it,  the  steps  in  it  are  so  short  and  so  rapidly  taken, 
that  we  are  scarcely  aware  that  it  is  reasoning.  We  mistake 
mere  logical  deductions  for  immediate  perceptions.  In  fact,  how- 
ever, mind  is  never  an  object  of  direct  apprehension.  Its  exist- 
ence is  only  inferred  from  signs.  These  may  be  directly  exhib- 
ited by  the  being  himself,  or  they  may  appear  in  his  works.  In 
either  case  the  knowledge  derived  from  them  is  inferential,  and 
inferential  only.  The  human  mind  is  no  more  seen,  is  no  more 
an  object  of  sense,  than  that  mighty  Intelligence  the  overshad- 
owings  of  whose  power  in  nature  fill  us  with  awe  when  we  con- 
template them.     It  is  from  these  everywhere  present  manifesta- 


84  THE  EXISTENCE   OF   GOD. 

tions  of  duty  that  the  plain,  unlettered  man  and  the  intelligent 
savage  even  unconsciously  draw  their  simple  but  sublime  con- 
clusion. 

Upon  those  who  reject  the  authority  of  the  causal  judgment 

—  fortunately  their  number  is  small,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say 

—  this  kind  of  reasoning,  when  extended  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  experience,  can  have  little  or  no  influence.     For  them  theol- 

ogy  as  a  science  is  impossible.     Like  philosophy  it  derives  its        1 
support   from   an   intuition,  to  which    this   restricted  class  of 
thinkers  deny  a  place  in  the  intelligence. 

APPLICATION    OF    THE    AEGUMENT.  Jj 

Dr.  Paley,  in  seeking  for  proofs  of  an  intelligent  Creator, 
extends  his  survey  over  the  whole  of  organic  and  inorganic 
nature.  Everywhere  he  finds  the  indications  of  design.  These 
are  most  striking,  however  (and  the  evidence  here  comes  home 
most  strongly  to  us)  in  the  structures  of  plants  and  animals. 
Among  these  structures,  the  human  eye  and  ear  naturally  hold 
a  prominent  place  in  his  argument.  In  no  part  of  our  organiza- 
tion is  the  evidence  of  contrivance  and  purpose  clearer.  In  no 
part  do  we  discover  the  signs  of  an  intelligence  more  completely 
human.  The  eye  is  an  optical  instrument,  as  truly  so  as  the 
microscope  or  telescope,  or  the  camera  obscura,  which  it  more 
nearly  resembles.  It  acts  upon  light  in  the  same  manner,  and 
like  that  forms  in  its  dark  chamber  an  exact  image  or  picture 
of  whatever  is  before  it  with  a  knowledge  of  the  end  to  be  at- 
tained ;  and  with  the  right  materials  and  suitable  instruments 
at  our  command,  we  should  have  constructed  a  similar  organ. 
In  like  manner  the  ear  is  merely  an  acoustic  instrument.  It  is 
formed  on  principles  which  we  perfectly  understand,  and  which 


THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD.  85 

we  ourselves  embody  in  analogous  structures.  The  mechanism 
of  the  brain  and  nervous  system  comes  much  less  within  our 
comprehension.  We  have  little  knowledge  of  their  structure, 
and  still  less  knowledge  of  the  endowments  by  which  they  are 
fitted  to  perform  their  important  functions.  Did  we  under- 
stand the  way  in  which  the  nerves  on  the  one  hand  transmit  to 
the  sensorium  impressions  received  from  without,  and  on  the 
other  convey  the  mandates  of  the  will  to  the  muscles,  we  should 
undoubtedly  have  proof  of  a  much  larger  intelligence  and  a 
higher  and  wider  range  of  contrivance  than  is  witnessed  in  any 
of  the  merely  mechanical  parts  of  the  body.  Did  we  compre- 
hend the  functions  of  the  brain,  could  we  look  in  upon  it, 
and  see  how  it  ministers  to  sensation,  to  perception,  to  thought, 
to  feeling,  and  to  will,  we  should  perceive  in  this  wonderful 
structure  which  bridges  the  impassable  gulf  separating  matter 
from  spirit  and  establishes  a  way  for  intercourse  between  them, 
evidence  of  knowledge,  skill,  and  inventive  resource,  in  the 
presence  of  which  the  signs  of  intelligence  in  other  parts  re- 
ferred to  would  fade  into  dimness  and  obscurity. 

But  it  is  not  from  the  eye,  or  the  ear,  or  the  heart,  or  the 
hand,  or  the  brain,  or  from  any  other  of  the  organs  or  members 
of  the  body,  or  from  all  of  them  united  and  built  up  into  the 
perfect  man,  that  we  gain,  as  I  think,  our  strongest  impres- 
sions of  the  exhaustless  resources  of  the  divine  contrivance,  but 
from  the  vast  system  of  terrestrial  machinery,  deriving  its  mo- 
tive power  from  the  sun,  by  which,  through  specially  devised 
attachments,  eyes  and  ears  and  hearts  and  hands  and  brains 
are  continually  being  formed,  and  through  whose  ceaseless 
working  human  beings,  complete  in  all  their  parts,  and  innu- 
merable other  beings,  animal  and  vegetable,  equally  perfect,  are 
every  moment  coming  by  countless  myriads  into  existence. 


86  THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD. 

The  ordinary  nail,  by  its  manifest  adaptation  to  a  special  use, 
affords  evidence  of  thought  and  purpose  on  the  part  of  the  in- 
ventor; but  how  much  more  the  nail  -  machine,  on  one  side 
craunching  with  its  steel  jaws  the  bars  of  iron  presented  to  it, 
and  on  the  other  delivering  in  a  continuous  stream  the  finished 
product.  The  invention  of  the  screw  followed  that  of  the  nail. 
It  supposes  more  thought  and  a  higher  degree  of  intelligence. 
But  how  little  of  mind  does  this  show  in  comparison  with  the 
machinery  of  the  screw  factory,  at  one  of  whose  doors  enter 
coils  of  rusty  wire,  while  at  the  other  passes  out,  untouched  by 
hand,  the  completed  manufacture.  The  textile  coverings  with 
which  we  protect  and  adorn  ourselves  were  not  invented  at 
once.  It  is  only  through  many  successive  improvements,  each 
the  product  of  thought,  that  they  have  become  what  they  are. 
We  cannot  look  upon  them  without  realizing  this.  But  how 
much  more  strongly  are  we  impressed  with  the  power  of  mind 
when  we  go  through  one  of  the  ten  thousand  mills  which  are 
flooding  the  world  with  their  diverse  and  beautiful  fabrics.  So 
it  is  in  nature.  Our  profoundest  impressions  of  exhaustlessness 
in  power  of  contrivance  do  not  come  from  mere  organized  struc- 
tures, however  replete  with  evidences  of  thought  and  purpose 
they  may  be,  but  from  the  combination  of  agencies  and  instru- 
mentalities by  which,  out  of  materials  the  most  unpromising, 
their  production  is  everywhere  going  forward.  By  processes 
to  us  wholly  inscrutable,  air,  water,  and  earth  are  transmuted 
into  the  substance  of  wood  and  bark,  leaf  and  flower  ;  of  bone 
and  muscle,  nerve  and  sinew.  In  ways  which  we  do  not  un- 
derstand, and  by  agencies  of  which  we  are  profoundly  ignorant, 
the  products  of  this  subtle  alchemy  are  wrought  into  vegetable 
and  animal  organs ;  and  these  in  like  manner  are  built  into  the 


THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD.  87 

structures  of  the  innumerable  and  endlessly  diversified  beings 
by  which  our  globe  is  tenanted.  Well  might  the  preacher  de- 
rive his  most  striking  illustration  of  the  marvelous  and  incom- 
prehensible ways  of  the  divine  working  from  "  how  the  bones 
do  grow  in  the  womb  of  her  that  is  with  child."  In  that  cham- 
ber of  mystery  and  power  are  wrought  miracles  as  great  as  any 
of  those  which  two  thousand  years  ago  made  the  shores  of  the 
Galilean  lake  immortal.  Every  living  thing  has  its  origin  in 
darkness  and  mystery  to  the  human, eye  and  mind  equally  pro- 
found. 

But  may  we  not  find  an  explanation  of  all  the  terrestrial  phe- 
nomena, it  will  be  asked,  in  the  properties  of  matter  ?  May  not 
"  the  promise  and  potency  of  every  form  and  quality  of  life  " 
be  discovered  in  the  primordial  constituents  of  being  ?  May  we 
not  suppose  these  in  proper  collocation  to  have  evolved  by  their 
interaction  the  entire  system  of  things  with  which  we  find  our- 
selves connected  ?  Has  not  time  been  long  enough  ?  Are  not 
the  energies  revealed  in  matter  sufficiently  enduring  and  suffi- 
ciently obedient  to  law  ? 

Waiving  the  grave  difficulties  attending  this  hypothesis,  and 
passing  over  the  very  slender  foundation  upon  which  it  rests, 
let  us  entertain  it  for  a  moment  and  see  what  bearing  it  has 
upon  our  argument.  Does  it  enable  us  to  dispense  with  intelli- 
gence ?  Does  the  hypothesis  do  anything  more  than  carry  to 
a  point  further  back  the  application  of  its  directive  power? 
Would  the  proper  endowment  and  placing  of  the  primordial 
atoms  require  no  thought  —  an  endowment  and  placing  such 
that,  by  their  definitely  regulated  interaction  continued  on 
through  the  cosmic  ages,  they  should  in  the  end  of  time  achieve 
the  marvels  of  life  and  inteUigence  which  we  behold  around  us  ? 


88  THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD. 

To  infuse  the  required  energy  into  the  nebulous  matter  and 
start  movements,  which,  traveling  down  the  eons  of  eternity, 
shall  at  length,  organization  of  system  and  planet  completed, 
converge,  and,  by  and  by,  meeting  in  an  eye  or  heart  or  hand 
or  brain,  shall  secure  to  it  its  wonderful  endowments :  would 
this  demand  no  effort  of  mind  ?  On  the  contrary,  would  it  not 
suppose  an  intelligence  which,  flashing  along  the  lines  of  ante- 
cedent and  consequent,  should  take  in  at  a  glance  all  the  possi- 
bilities offered  by  original  chaos  of  atoms  ?  Should  the  so- 
called  development  hypothesis  be  ever  established  on  the  basis 
of  observation  and  induction,  which  I  deem  highly  improbable, 
it  could  lead  us  legitimately  only  to  sublime  conceptions  of  the 
attributes  of  Deity.  Instead  of  embarrassing  theism,  it  would 
assist  in  removing  difficulties  attending  it.  It  would  explain, 
for  instance,  in  a  satisfactory  manner  the  origin  of  certain  ex- 
isting forms  of  life,  which  it  is  not  easy  to  imagine  God  could 
have  taken  pleasure  in  directly  creating.  If  the  argument  for 
the  divine  existence  derived  from  this  wider  and  more  profound 
view  of  nature  be  less  convincing  than  the  argument  from  spe- 
cial structures,  it  is  because  the  mind,  overwhelmed  and  para- 
lyzed by  the  vastness  of  the  premises,  moves  with  enfeebled 
energy  to  the  conclusion.  A  larger  and  stronger  intelligence 
would  arrive  at  the  truth  with  as  much  certainty,  and  hold  it 
with  as  firm  a  grasp. 

The  doctrine  of  evolution,  though  in  itself  perfectly  compati- 
ble with  a  sublime  theism,  when  grafted  upon  the  hypothesis  of 
the  eternity  of  matter  becomes  the  very  stronghold  of  material- 
ism. In  fact,  the  two  hypotheses  united  constitute  materialism, 
and  the  only  form  of  it  that  an  intelligent  man  can  entertain. 
In  this  form  it  is  not  unfrequent  among  men  of  science,  and 


THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD.  89 

there  are  perhaps  few  thoughtful  persons  who  have  not,  at  mo- 
ments when  faith  was  weak,  felt  its  depressing  influences.  Why 
not  suppose,  it  is  said,  the  material  atoms  to  be  self -existent,  and 
by  interactions  dependent  upon  their  inherent  energies  to  have 
organized  the  universe  ?  Why  suppose  an  eternal,  self -existent 
Being,  who  has  created  and  endowed  these  atoms,  and  assigned 
to  each  its  place  and  work?  Is  not  the  first  the  simpler  hy- 
pothesis ?  Does  it  not  involve  less  that  is  incomprehensible  and 
unimaginable  ?  Does  it  not  explain  equally  well  the  phenom- 
ena? Is  it  not  wholly  relieved  of  the  moral  difficulties  with 
which  theism  has  always  been  pressed  ?  Are  we  not  therefore 
bound  in  reason  to  prefer  it  ? 

This  view  of  nature,  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  so  much  of 
the  unbelief  of  our  times,  may  assume  either  a  materialistic  or 
pantheistic  phase,  according  to  the  nature  attributed  to  the 
primary  constituents  of  being.  I  shall  not  enter  upon  an  exam- 
ination of  it  at  the  present  time,  but  shall  make  it  the  special 
subject  of  my  next  lecture.  I  will  only  say  now,  that  the  hy- 
pothesis, even  in  its  lowest  and  materialistic  form,  if  it  were 
philosophically  admissible,  which  I  believe  it  is  not,  and  if  it 
were  compatible  with  observed  phenomena  and  the  received  doc- 
trines of  science,  which  I  hope  to  show  it  is  not,  would  by  no 
means  preclude  the  supposition  of  a  mighty  intelligence  pervad- 
ing every  part  of  the  universe  —  an  intelligence  not  preceding 
and  determining  the  organization  of  the  universe,  but  developed 
through  that  organization.  If,  in  the  case  of  ourselves,  as  this 
class  of  philosophers  inform  us,  molecular  agitations  and  neu- 
ral tremors  appear  in  consciousness,  as  sensations,  perceptions, 
thought,  feeling,  purpose,  and  will,  why  may  we  not  suppose 
the  universal  restlessness  of  matter,  the  intense  movements  by 


90  THE  EXISTENCE   OF  GOD. 

which  its  particles  are  everywhere  agitated,  the  inconceivably 
rapid  vibrations  which  are  ceaselessly  coursing  its  huge  and  ag- 
gregated masses,  why  may  we  not  suppose  these  vast  and  rhyth- 
mic movements,  extending  through  all  nature,  to  give  being  to 
an  Infinite  and  Supreme  Mind  endowed  with  the  attribute  of 
omniscience?  Will  it  be  said  that  it  is  only  in  nerve  substance 
that  molecular  movements  evolve  thought  ?  Is  there  any  war- 
rant for  such  an  assumption  ?  Would  it  not  be  a  species  of 
anthropomorphism  grosser  than  ever  has  been  charged  upon 
theism  ? 

The  conclusions  thus  far  reached  are,  that  in  establishing 
the  existence  of  a  personal  God,  we  must  rely  chiefly  upon  the 
evidence  of  design  in  nature. 

That  arguments  derived  from  other  sources  are  only  accessory 
and  corroborative. 

That  the  discoveries  of  modern  science  have  not  undermined 
the  teleological  argument,  but,  on  the  contrary,  have  laid  a 
broader  and  deeper  foundation  for  it,  and  have,  moreover;  fur- 
nished ampler,  better,  and  better-assorted  materials  for  its  con- 
struction. 

That  the  argument  rests  primarily  upon  the  causal  judgment. 

That  all  its  inferences  have  the  warrant  of  that  judgment, 
and  that  they  do  not  differ  at  all  in  kind  from  inferences  upon 
which  we  are  continually  acting  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life. 

That  the  intelligence  and  design  manifested  in  the  structure 
of  the  animal  organs  is  so  entirely  human  in  character,  that  we 
not  only  understand  perfectly  many  of  these  organs,  but  our- 
selves construct  instruments  closely  resembling  them  in  princi- 
ple and  in  purpose. 

That  it  is  not  in  the  eye  or  ear  or  heart  or  brain,  or  in  any  of 


THE  EXISTENCE   OF   GOD.  91 

the  animal  organs,  or  in  the  entire  animal  structure,  that  we 
witness  the  most  impressive  exliibitions  of  intelligence  and 
design,  but  in  the  adjustments  of  that  vast  system  of  machinery 
by  which,  out  of  materials  the  most  unpromising,  eyes  and  ears 
and  hearts  and  brains  are  everywhere  being  formed  and  built 
into  the  structure  of  the  living  animal. 

That  the  development  hypothesis,  supposing  it  were  to  be 
estabhshed,  would  not  enable  us  to  dispense  with  intelligence, 
but  only  carry  to  a  point  further  back  the  application  of  its 
directive  power.     And,  finally. 

That  even  materialism,  consistently  carried  out,  does  not  pre- 
clude the  supposition  of  a  mighty  Intelligence  pervading  every 
part  of  the  universe. 


THE  MATERIALISTIC   FORM   OF  THE  DEVELOP- 
MENT  HYPOTHESIS. 


LECTURE  II. 

In  my  former  lecture  I  expressed  the  belief  that  the  doctrine 
of  evolution  was  by  itself  compatible  with  the  loftiest  theism, 
and  that  should  it  ever  be  established  on  a  solid  basis,  which 
I  thought  highly  improbable,  it  could  legitimately  conduct  us 
only  to  sublime  conceptions  of  the  mode  of  the  divine  work- 
ing. But  when  associated  with  another  and  quite  different 
hypothesis  —  that  of  the  eternal  and  independent  existence  of 
matter  —  it  becomes  the  main  pillar  and  chief  support  of  mate- 
rialism. It  is  in  this  association,  and  only  in  this,  that  I  pro- 
pose in  the  present  lecture  to  consider  it. 

The  doctrine  of  evolution  being  admitted,  matter  and  force, 
it  is  said,  are  all  that  is  required  for  solving  the  problem  of  the 
universe.  Why  not  suppose  matter  and  force,  or  rather  matter 
embosoming  force,  to  be  eternal  ?  Is  not  this  in  all  respects 
preferable  to  the  difficult  and  hardly  conceivable  hypothesis  of 
its  creation  ?  Is  it  not  simpler  ?  Does  it  not  account  equally 
well  for  all  the  phenomena  ?  Does  it  not  escape  the  difficulties 
and  embarrassments  which  attend  the  supposition  of  an  intelli- 
gent Author  and  moral  Governor  of  the  world  ? 

In  examining  this  hypothesis,  which  from  its  imagined  sim- 
plicity is  so  seductive  to  merely  theoretic  minds,  and  which  in 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.  93 

one  form  or  another  has  always  found  advocates,  I  shall  inquire 
first,  Is  it  philosophically  admissible  ?  Secondly,  Is  it  in  ac- 
cordance with  observed  phenomena  and  the  received  doctrines 
of  science  ? 

Before  we  can  answer  these  inquiries,  we  must  know  what 
the  hypothesis  includes  ;  what  other  subordinate  hypotheses  are 
infolded  in  it.  On  a  very  slight  examination,  the  following 
contents  will,  I  think,  be  distinctly  recognized  :  — 

1.  The  eternity  and  self-existence  of  matter. 

2.  The  evolution  of  the  existing  order  of  things  through 
the  long-continued  interaction  of  its  primary  molecules ;  and 
through  that  alone. 

3.  The  production  of  mind  by  certain  groupings  of  these 
same  molecules,  and  the  awakening  of  thought  and  feeling  by 
their  interaction  while  thus  associated. 

Let  us  see  what  is  included  in  the  first  of  these  hypotheses  — 
the  eternity  and  self -existence  of  matter.  What  is  matter  ?  Of 
what  does  it  consist  ?  What  is  the  nature  of  its  primary  con- 
stituents, or  the  molecules  of  which  it  is  supposed  to  be  built 
up  ?  What  are  these  molecules  so  marvelously  endowed  ?  What 
is  their  intimate  constitution  ? 

For  a  very  long  time  physicists  were  content  to  regard  them 
as  simple  unities,  or  atoms,  as  they  were  called,  supposed  to  be 
indestructible  and  unalterable.  This  view  of  their  constitution 
answered  all  the  demands  made  upon  them  in  explaining  the 
known  facts  of  science.  It,  moreover,  seemed  to  be  supported 
and  confirmed  by  laws  regulating  their  combination,  which  were 
discovered  by  Mr.  Dalton,  near  the  beginning  of  the  present 
century.  Since  that  time,  until  very  recently,  the  atomic  theory 
has  been  accepted  as  an  established  doctrine,  has  held  a  promi- 


94  THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

nent  place  in  all  treatises  on  chemistry  and  physics.  "Within  a 
few  years  past,  however,  facts  have  been  brought  to  light  which, 
refusing  explanation  on  that  theory,  demand  a  radical  change 
in  our  ideas  of  the  elementary  constituents  of  bodies.  Under 
the  brilliant  light  cast  upon  them  by  the  spectroscope,  —  that 
newest  instrument  of  investigation  which  has  already  done  so 
much  for  the  enlargement  of  our  knowledge,  —  under  the  bril- 
liant light  of  the  spectroscope,  the  hitherto  supposed  atoms 
expand  into  clusters  of  worlds.  Each  little  world,  held  in  its 
place  by  an  exact  balance  of  forces,  has  its  own  separate  and  dis- 
tinct movements,  while  it  partakes  of  the  more  general  motions 
of  the  system  to  which  it  belongs.  The  constitution  of  one  of 
these  molecules  is  shown  by  the  lines  in  the  spectrum  obtained 
by  passing  the  light  emitted  by  the  substance  when  intensely 
heated,  and  in  the  state  of  a  vapor  or  gas,  through  a  succession 
of  prisms.  The  number  of  lines  in  the  spectrum  indicates  the 
number  of  separate  parts  contained  in  the  molecule,  and  the 
position  and  color  of  the  lines,  the  tensions  at  which  the  parts 
are  severally  held  by  the  forces  pervading  and  animating  the 
minute  structure.  The  molecules  of  the  same  elementary  sub- 
stance give  always  the  same  number  of  lines,  of  the  same  colors, 
and  occupying  the  same  positions  in  the  spectrum.  The  mole- 
cules of  different  elementary  substances  give  different  systems  of 
colored  lines,  indicating  corresponding  differences  in  constitu- 
tion, —  that  is  in  the  number  and  tension  of  their  component 
parts.  Each  one  of  the  elements  has  its  own  characteristic  spec- 
trum. Nitrogen,  oxygen,  and  iron  give  each  a  great  number  of 
separate  lines  of  nearly  all  the  colors  of  the  solar  spectrum,  indi- 
cating a  remarkable  degree  of  complexity  in  the  constitution  of 
their  molecules.     Hydrogen  gives  a  much  smaller  number  of 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.  95 

*  orange  and  blue  lines,  while  sodium  gives  a  single  yellow  line. 
This,  however,  under  a  high  refractive  force,  opens  into  two 
closely  approximated  and  parallel  lines,  the  color  remaining  the 
same. 

It  is  on  the  identity  of  the  spectra  given  by  the  molecules  of 
the  same  substance  that  spectral  analysis  is  based,  a  mode  of 
research  by  which  the  physicist  not  only  detects  the  minutest 
portion  of  any  of  the  elements,  in  air,  earth,  or  water,  but  ex- 
plores the  realms  of  space,  and  finds  in  other  worlds  and  suns 
than  our  own  the  same  elements,  with  molecules  constituted  in 
precisely  the  same  manner.  Hydrogen  and  the  vapors  of  iron, 
manganese,  nickel,  chromium,  potassium,  sodium,  calcium,  and 
magnesium  in  the  sun !  Water  in  several  6f  the  planets ! 
Hydrogen,  bismuth,  antimony,  sodium,  magnesium,  and  mercury 
in  the  fixed  stars ;  and  in  the  scarcely  discernible  nebulae,  hang^ 
ing  upon  the  outskirts  of  creation,  and  not  yet  shaped  into 
worlds,  hydrogen,  the  omnipresent  element,  and  associated  with 
it  nitrogen  !  How  wonderful  these  facts  !  and  how  much  more 
wonderful  that  man  on  his  little  planet  should  have  been  able 
to  discover  them !  This  vast  extension  of  our  knowledge,  af- 
fording ground  for  the  presumption  of  unity  of  composition  and 
structure  throughout  the  entire  universe,  confers  upon  the  pri- 
mary constituents  of  matter  an  interest  not  before  possessed  by 
them.  These  elementary  molecules,  so  complex  in  structure, 
embodying  forces  so  inscrutable  and  yet  so  obedient  to  law, 
presenting  differences  of  constitution  in  the  different  kinds  of 
matter,  but  in  the  same  kind  always  in  precisely  the  same  way, 
and  brought  to  exactly  the  same  weight  and  same  measure, 
whence  are  they  ?  Under  what  conditions  have  they  been 
formed  ?     These  infinitesimal  structures,  so  minute  as  to  be  be- 


96  THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

yond  the  reach  of  the  most  powerful  microscope,  and  yet  con- 
taining each  within  itself  a  subtle  mechanism  ;  these  prepared 
materials  and  instruments  ready  for  the  worlds,  how  have  they 
come  into  existence  ?  Chance  will  not  account  for  them.  The 
law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  supposed  to  have  exerted  so 
powerful  an  influence  in  the  organic  world,  can  have  had  no 
part  in  their  production.  They  must  have  been  formed  under 
the  guidance  of  mind,  or  have  had  no  beginning.  Either  a 
Being  eternal  and  self-existent  must  have  specially  prepared 
them  with  all  their  adaptations  for  the  sublime  end  of  building 
up  a  universe,  and  peopling  it  with  moral  intelligences,  or  else 
they  must  have  always  existed  without  object  or  purpose,  not 
merely  in  countless  myriads,  but  in  numbers  immeasurably  sur- 
passing the  possibilities  of  thought ;  and  although  individually 
separate  and  distinct,  yet  so  correlated,  that  by  their  interaction 
continued  through  a  past  eternity,  they  have  evolved  along  with 
innumerable  other  and  vastly  larger  worlds  the  little  one  which 
we  inhabit,  with  its  exhaustless  provisions  for  the  support  of  life 
and  its  teeming  population.  Such  is  the  dilemma  in  which  we 
are  placed.  Can  we  for  a  moment  hesitate  which  horn  to  take  ? 
Does  it  admit  of  question  which  of  the  two  hypotheses  is  the 
simpler,  the  more  philosophical,  or  the  more  in  consonance  with 
every  part  of  our  nature,  rational,  moral,  and  religious  ? 

But  we  have  just  entered  upon  the  embarrassments  which  en- 
viron the  materialist.  The  present  system  of  things  bears  evi- 
dent marks  of  transitoriness.  It  has  had  a  beginning  in  time, 
and  unless  sustained  by  a  power  from  without  it  will  come  to 
an  end  in  time.  The  signs  of  growth  or  decay,  or  of  both 
growth  and  decay,  are  visible  in  every  part  of  it.  Many  such 
systems  might  have  come  successively  into  existence,  and  have 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.  97 

run  one  after  another  their  courses,  and  yet  have  hardly 
touched  the  resources  of  a  past  eternity. 

Two  sides  are  presented  by  every  true  picture  of  the  uni- 
verse. With  one  of  these  sides  the  public  has  been  made  fa- 
miliar by  the  astronomer  and  the  geologist.  Emergence  from 
chaos,  organization,  growth,  development,  these  are  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  familiar  side.  On  the  other  side  are  equally  un- 
mistakable indications  of  decHne,  waste,  decay,  and  final  disso- 
lution. These  two  sides  belong  as  truly  to  a  portrait  of  nature 
as  she  sits  to  us,  as  to  a  picture  of  human  life.  To  be  satisfied 
of  this,  we  have  only  to  glance  at  two  or  three  well-known  facts. 

The  earth  is  dependent  upon  the  sun  for  its  productive  pow- 
ers. Without  a  constant  supply  of  heat  and  light  from  that 
central  orb,  all  the  activities  on  its  surface  would  quickly  cease. 
It  is  the  sun  that  lifts  the  watery  vapor  from  the  ocean  to  be 
formed  in  the  upper  air  into  clouds,  which  are  borne  by  the 
winds,  the  sun's  carriers,  over  island  and  continent,  dispensing 
in  fertilizing  showers  their  wealth  of  water.  It  is  the  sun  that 
opens  the  soil  to  the  genial  influences  of  spring,  and  quickens 
into  life  and  growth  the  innumerable  organisms  held  in  its 
bosom.  It  is  the  sun,  working  in  the  microscopic  laboratories 
of  the  planjf,  that  enables  it  to  effect  transformations  so  marvel- 
lous to  perform  before  our  eyes,  and  under  our  hands  the  mir- 
acle of  turning  stones  into  bread.  Water  power,  wind  power, 
steam  power,  electric  power,  animal  power,  all  these  arc  but 
altered  forms  of  sun  power.  It  is  that  which  keeps  in  motion 
the  whole  terrestrial  machinery.  Let  the  pulses  of  solar  energy 
no  longer  reach  our  planet,  and  the  animated  scene  of  which  it 
is  now  the  theatre  would  shortly  disappear.  In  a  stillness  and 
silence  more  profound  than  that  of  death,  it  would  roll  a  ten- 
antless  ball  through  space. 


98  THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

But  a  very  small  part  of  the  sun's  rays  are  intercepted  by  the 
earth.  An  incomparably  larger  portion  continue  their  course 
unobstructed  and  without  utilization  till  they  are  lost  in  the  in- 
finite depths  of  ether.  To  a  thoughtful  mind  there  are  few 
things  more  impressive  than  this  amazing  and  ceaseless  waste  of 
solar  energy.  It  is  not  of  a  day  or  a  year.  It  has  continued 
through  all  past  time.  During  the  entire  lapse  of  the  geologic 
ages  enough  of  sun  power  has  been  each  moment  expended  in 
merely  awaking  ethereal  undulations,  to  clothe  with  verdure  and 
beauty,  and  fill  with  life,  more  than  two  billion  such  worlds  as 
ours.  The  other  suns  of  our  firmament  arc  wasting  in  like 
manner  their  stores  of  energy.  Some  of  them  are  believed  to 
be  at  present  hotter  than  our  own.  Others  have  already  de- 
clined to  an  inferior  temperature.  These  differences  are  so 
marked  that  astronomers  have  made  them  the  basis  of  classifica- 
tion. They  tell  us  which  of  the  myriad  suns  are  the  oldest  and 
furthest  spent,  and  which  have  come  most  recently  from  the 
glowing  forge  of  the  almighty  Artificer.  They  are  all,  how- 
ever, lavishly  spending  the  primordial  forces  with  which  they 
were  stored,  and  it  is  only  a  matter  of  time  when  the  hottest  of 
them,  if  no  higher  power  intervene,  shall  have  exerted  the  last 
ethereal  wave,  and  sunk  to  the  temperature  of  surrounding 
space.  When  this  condition  of  equilibrium  shall  have  become 
universal  change  will  cease;  for  change  is  everywhere  born  of 
the  conflict  of  unequal  forces.  The  motive  power  of  the  uni- 
verse will  have  been  spent.  Nature,  like  a  clock,  has  run  down 
and  stopped.  Like  a  clock,  it  must  be  wound  up  anew  before  it 
will  start  again.  The  fires  under  the  boiler  have  gone  out,  and 
the  engine  has  ceased  to  move.  They  must  be  rekindled,  or  it 
will  remain  permanently  at  rest.     Were  matter  eternal,  however 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.  99 

unequally  we  may  suppose  the  forces  connected  with  it  to  have 
been  originally  disti-ibuted,  they  must,  long  ages  before  the 
commencement  of  the  present  order  of  things,  have  lost  their  ca- 
pacity for  work  by  coming  to  a  state  of  equilibrium.  When  this 
passive  state  had  once  been  reached,  it  would  have  continued 
forever.  Only  a  power  above  nature  could  redistribute  the 
forces,  and  enable  them  again  to  do  work. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  the  \'iew  here  set  forth  is  at  vari- 
ance with  the  doctrine  of  the  conservation  of  energy.  On  the 
contrary,  it  fully  recognizes  that  doctrine.  The  decline  of  tem- 
perature experienced  by  the  suns  of  our  firmament  is  not  owing 
to  the  destruction  of  any  part  of  the  forces  originally  impris- 
oned ^vithin  these.  These  forces  are,  and  have  been  from  the 
beginning,  continually  escaping.  They  still  exist,  but  have  lost 
their  capacity  for  work.  They  are  no  longer  available  for  cos- 
mic purposes.  They  have  passed  from  the  orbs  into  which  they 
were  gathered,  and  are  now  traversing  in  ethereal  waves  the 
heights  and  depths  of  space,  or  rippling,  if  such  there  exist,  on 
its  far-distant  shores. .  Their  tendency  still  is  to  diffusion  and 
equalization.  They  have  no  power  to  gather  themselves  up  and 
return  to  the  bodies  from  which  they  emanated.  As  well  might 
the  weight  of  the  run-down  clock  regain  without  aid  its  previous 
working  position  ;  or  the  exhausted  and  scattered  steam  reen- 
ter the  cylinder,  and  drive  anew  the  piston.  For  gathering  up 
and  restoring  to  these  suns  their  lost  energy,  an  almighty  Hand 
is  demanded ;  and  without  such  restoration  their  days  are  num- 
bered. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  decaying  fires  of  our  sun  may 
be  from  time  to  time  rekindled,  by  the  planets  one  after  another 
plunging  in  upon  it.     This,  however,  would  only  prolong  the 


100         THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

period  of  its  activity.  The  end  would  be  the  same.  The  last 
planet  would  at  length  impart,  by  its  shock,  the  last  addition 
of  heat,  and  the  process  of  refrigeration  would  from  that  time 
go  on  without  interruption. 

Another  suggestion  has  been  made  which  is  worthy  of  con- 
sideration only  on  account  of  the  respectable  source  from  which 
it  comes.  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  supposes  that  the  heat  evolved 
by  the  impact  of  the  planets  upon  the  sun,  as  they  shall  be  suc- 
cessively drawn  in  and  absorbed  by  it,  may  be  sufficient  to  bring 
all  the  matter  in  our  system  into  a  nebulous  condition,  and  thus 
make  way  for  the  emergence  of  a  new  system  out  of  the  ruins 
of  the  old.  This  new  system,  after  having  run  its  orderly 
course,  he  supposes  to  furnish  in  like  manner  by  its  final  dis- 
ruption the  material  for  a  third  system ;  and  so  on  indefinitely. 
How  Mr.  Spencer  could  have  been  drawn  into  an  hypothesis  so 
extravagant,  looking  backwards  as  well  as  forwards,  it  is  not  easy 
to  imagine.  Any  well-instructed  physicist  would  have  informed 
him  that  the  heat  evolved  by  the  supposed  collision  would  at 
most  be  only  sufficient  to  throw  the  planets  back  to  their  primi- 
tive orbits,  without  any  rise  of  temperature  either  in  the  sun  or 
in  themselves.  To  bring  the  matter  belonging  to  our  system 
into  its  original  nebulous  condition,  there  must  be  added  to  this 
all  the  heat  that  has  exhaled  from  it,  from  the  time  when  it  first 
floated  as  a  glowing  cloud  in  space  down  to  the  present  hour, 
and  all  the  heat  that  will  hereafter  exhale  from  its  different 
members  until  the  moment  of  the  supposed  impact  of  the  last 
planet.  There  is  not  a  fact  or  analogy  even  suggesting  the 
return,  by  natural  causes,  of  this  enormous  amount  of  escaped 
heat  to  the  bodies  with  which  it  was  originally  associated.  Such 
a  return  would  be  in  direct  opposition  to  the  law  of  diffusion 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.         101 

governing  the  movements  of  caloric,  and,  as  already  stated, 
would  require  the  interposition  of  supernatural  agencies.  When 
this  theory  of  the  universe  was  first  proposed  by  the  celebrated 
Kant,  the  law  of  equivalency  governing  the  conversion  of  force 
into  heat,  and  of  heat  again  into  force,  was  not  knov/n.  Had 
he  been  aware  of  the  existence  of  this  law,  he  could  hardly  have 
entertained  so  wild  a  supposition.  The  fundamental  hypothesis 
of  materialism  is  therefore  untenable.  It  does  not  explain  in 
a  satisfactory  manner  any  of  the  phenomena  of  nature,  and  is 
quite  incompatible  with  some  of  the  most  marked  and  strik- 
ing of  these  phenomena.  The  universe  has  had  a  beginning, 
and,  unless  sustained  by  a  power  without  itself,  will  come  to 
an  end.  It  is  therefore  not  eternal.  The  universe  was  not 
built  up  by  natural  forces  out  of  the  ruins  of  one  which  pre- 
ceded it.  Neither  can  it  furnish  in  its  dissolution  material  for 
the  construction,  under  natural  laws,  of  another  to  succeed  it. 
It  is,  therefore,  not  one  of  an  eternal  series  of  universes.  It 
must  then  have  come  into  existence  through  supernatural 
agency ;  or,  in  other  words,  by  the  fiat  of  an  almighty  and  om- 
niscient Creator. 

But  we  have  not  done  with  our  subject.  Other  difficulties 
of  scarcely  less  magnitude  than  those  already  encountered  lie  in 
the  path  of  consistent,  philosophic  materialism.  I  will  advert  to 
three  of  them  only :  (1)  the  transition  from  inorganic  nature  to 
the  living  structures  of  plants  and  animals  ;  (2)  the  passage  from 
the  lower  and  simpler  to  the  higher  and  more  complex  types  of 
organized  life  ;  (3)  the  leap  from  extension  to  thought,  or  from 
mere  material  properties  to  the  endowments  of  mind.  Of  the 
second  of  these  difficulties  we  have  Mr.  Darwin's  proposed  solu- 
tion.    Of  the  first  and  third  nothing  approaching  the  character 


102        THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

of  a  scientific  explanation  has  been  attempted.  He  would  be 
a  bold  man  who,  in  this  last  half  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
should  undertake  to  show  how  the  molecules  of  inorganic  mat- 
ter, under  no  other  guidance  than  their  own  affinities,  may  in 
the  beginning  have  come  together  and  united  so  as  to  form  liv- 
ing plants  and  animals.  The  most  that  any  one  could  do  would 
be  to  assert  the  possibility  of  this,  without  being  able  to  adduce 
a  single  fact  in  support  of  the  assertion.  The  supposed  cases 
of  spontaneous  generation  which  once  gave  plausibility  to  such 
an  hypothesis,  under  the  sharper  scrutiny  of  modern  investiga- 
tion aided  by  the  microscope,  have  one  after  another  resolved 
themselves  into  instances  of  ordinary  and  normal  reproduction. 
After  a  full  history  of  these  cases,  and  of  the  investigations  to 
which  they  have  led,  Mr.  Huxley  in  his  Address  before  the 
British  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science,  September, 
1870,  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  they  do  not  any  of  them 
afford  evidence  that  "  the  molecules  of  dead  matter,  for  no  valid 
or  intelligible  reason  that  is  assigned,  are  able  to  arrange  them- 
selves into  living  bodies  exactly  such  as  can  be  demonstrated  to 
be  frequently  produced  in  another  way."  "  But  although  I  can- 
not express  this  conviction  of  mine  too  strongly,"  he  adds,  "  I 
must  carefully  guard  myself  against  the  supposition  that  I  in- 
tend to  suggest  that  no  such  thing  as  abiogenesis  "  —  the  pro- 
duction of  living  matter  by  matter  without  Hfe  —  "  has  ever 
taken  place  in  the  past."  "  If  it  were  given  me  to  look  beyond 
the  abyss  of  geologically  recorded  time,  to  the  still  more  remote 
period  when  the  earth  was  passing  through  physical  and  chem- 
ical conditions  which  it  can  no  more  see  again  than  a  man  can 
recall  his  infancy,  I  should  expect  to  be  a  witness  of  the  evo- 
lution of  Hving  protoplasm  from  non-living  matter.     I  should 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.         103 

expect  to  see  it  appear  under  forms  of  great  simplicity,  endowed, 
like  existing  fungi,  with  the  power  of  determining  the  formation 
of  new  protoplasm  from  such  matters  as  ammonium  carbonates, 
oxalates  and  tartrates,  alkaline  and  earthy  phosphates,  and  water 
without  the  aid  of  light."  To  this  belief  ho  is  led,  as  ho  in- 
forms us,  by  "  analogical  reasoning,"  although  he  acknowledges 
he  has  no  right  to  call  "  it  anything  but  an  act  of  philosophic 
faith."  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  does  not  state  the  facts  upon 
which  his  analogical  reasoning  is  based ;  for  after  the  conces- 
sions he  makes,  it  is  certainly  not  easy  to  imagine  them.  He 
supposes  that  at  some  unknown  epoch  in  the  past  history  of  our 
planet,  under  conditions  equally  unknown,  but  presumed  to  be 
very  unlike  any  now  existing,  a  certain  specific  event  happened 
through  the  action  of  natural  causes  alone,  to  the  production  of 
which  the  known  laws  of  matter  are  wholly  inadequate.  He 
further  admits  that  nothing  like  it  has  ever  come  within  the 
range  of  human  experience.  How  he  founds  upon  analogy  a 
belief  so  remarkable  is  beyond  my  comprehension.  Could  he 
point  to  actual  and  admitted  instances  of  spontaneous  genera- 
tion, or  did  we  know  that  life  was  introduced  by  this  method  to 
any  of  the  other  planets,  he  might  then  reason  by  analogy  to 
the  mode  of  its  introduction  to  our  own  ;  but  without  some 
such  lyiowledge  I  see  no  basis  whatever  for  analogical  rea- 
soning. The  origin  of  life,  except  through  supernatural  agency, 
is  still  an  unsolved  and,  as  I  believe,  an  insoluble  problem. 
Among  other  desperate  hypotheses,  its  importation  from  a  for- 
eign source  on  the  fragment  of  a  disrupted  world  has  been  sug- 
gested. This,  however,  would  not  explain  its  origin,  but  only 
carry  it  farther  back. 

Mr.  Darwin  does  not  attempt  to  solve  the  difficult  problem. 


104        THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

but,  assuming  the  existence  of  a  few  of  the  simplest  forms  of  life, 
he  endeavors  to  show  how  from  these  under  the  operation  of 
natural  laws  may  have  sprung  the  entire  population  of  the  globe. 
This  is  not  quite  satisfactory  to  Mr.  Tyndall,  who  thinks  little  is 
gained  to  science  by  tracing  the  existing  species  of  plants  and 
animals  back  to  a  few  primitive  types,  if  for  the  origin  of  these 
we  are  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  supernatural  agency,  the  hete 
noir  of  his  school  of  philosophers.  We  might  as  well,  he  says, 
suppose  the  intervention  of  such  agency  in  the  production  of 
every  new  species.  In  making  this  criticism,  Mr.  Tyndall  seems 
to  overlook  the  important  fact  that  Mr.  Darwin's  principles  do 
not  touch  the  origin  of  life,  but  relate  exclusively  to  the  modifi- 
cations which  it  has  undergone  since  its  first  appearance  on  the 
earth.  Atavism,  the  law  of  variation,  and  the  selective  power 
of  environments,  or  external  conditions,  are  the  key  to  his  system. 
Atavism  moulds  the  offspring  upon  the  parental  type.  The  law 
of  variation  arranges  minor  details,  so  that  the  offspring  always 
differ  more  or  less  from  the  parents,  and  also  more  or  less  from 
one  another.  When  the  peculiarities  of  the  individual  are  such 
as  to  adapt  it  more  perfectly  to  its  surroundings,  the  posterity 
to  which  they  are  bequeathed  will  be  perpetuated,  and  a  sub- 
ordinate variety  or  species  will  be  established.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  peculiarities  of  the  individual  are  such  as  tend  to  un- 
fit it  for  its  habitat,  and  consequently  lessen  its  chances  of  suc- 
cess in  the  struggle  for  existence,  the  posterity  to  which  they 
are  transmitted  will  grow  weaker  with  every  generation,  and  the 
variety  marked  by  these  disadvantageous  peculiarities  will  Anally 
die  out.  By  this  selection  of  the  fittest,  which  has  been  going 
on  under  natural  laws  from  the  beginning,  Mr.  Darwin  sup- 
poses the  earth  to  have  been  provided  at  all  periods  of  its  exist- 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.         105 

ence  with  appropriate  inhabitants.  That  the  causes  assumed  are 
real,  and  their  tendency  is  in  the  direction  indicated,  must,  I 
think,  be  admitted.  But  their  adequacy  to  produce  the  amaz- 
ing  results  ascribed  to  them,  however  long  in  operation,  there 
is  great  reason  to  doubt.  It  is  certainly  very  far  from  having 
been  proved.  Although  man  has  for  many  centuries  availed 
himself  of  these  laws  in  his  efforts  to  produce  improved  varieties 
of  the  domesticated  plants  and  animals,  he  has  not  been  able 
to  originate  a  single  new  species,  or  a  variety  so  far  removed  from 
the  ancestral  type  as  to  bear  any  of  the  crucial  tests  of  species. 
Until  this  is  done,  evolution  by  natural  selection,  although  a 
great  advance  upon  any  of  the  development  theories  that  have 
preceded  it,  must  be  regarded  merely  as  a  working  hypothesis, 
destined  to  work  its  way  either  into  science,  or,  what  is  more 
probable,  out  of  it,  as  ninety-nine  out  of  every  hundred  such 
hypotheses  have  hitherto  done. 

One  of  the  strongest  grounds  of  objection  to  Mr.  Darwin's 
theory  is  its  want  of  accordance  with  the  recorded  facts  of 
geology.  This  was  early  pointed  out  by  Agassiz.  By  the 
requirements  of  the  theory,  life  on  the  earth  must  have  slowly 
advanced  by  insensible  movements  from  the  lowest  to  the  high- 
est types.  The  rocks,  however,  do  not  show  this.  As  we  rise 
through  the  successive  strata,  we  do  not  observe  one  species  of 
plant  or  animal  graduating  into  another  ;  but  the  first  species 
continues  unchanged,  until  it  by  and  by  gives  place  to  the  next 
above  it,  which  from  the  beginning  is  perfectly  distinct  and 
well  marked.  Intermediate  varieties  interposed  between  two 
successive  species  are  nowhere  found.  Life  has,  to  aU  appear- 
ance, ascended  by  steps,  and  not  continuously  on  an  inclined 
plane.     In  reply  it  is  said  that  intermediate  varieties  may  have 


106 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 


once  existed,  and  have  afterwards  been  destroyed  by  denuding 
agencies  which  are  known  to  have  swept  away  such  vast  bodies 
of  strata.  The  answer,  however,  is  strained,  and  can  hardly  be 
deemed  satisfactory  by  those  who  offer  it.  If  there  were  ever 
connecting  hnks  between  the  fossil  species,  it  is  certainly  re- 
markable that  not  one  of  them  should  have  been  preserved  and 
come  down  to  us  in  the  existing  formations. 

Should  the  Darwinian  hypothesis  ever  attain  to  the  position 
of  a  received  doctrine,  it  will  not,  as  I  have  already  more  than 
once  said,  do  away  with  the  necessity  of  intelligence  for  the 
adjustment  of  organic  to  inorganic  nature :  but  only  carry  its 
exercise  back  to  the  ordaining  of  the  laws  under  which  the  in- 
numerable adaptations  have  arisen. 

I  have  said  that  he  must  be  a  bold  man  who  should  under- 
take to  show  how  the  molecules  of  oxygen,  hydrogen,  nitrogen, 
and  carbon,  under  no  other  guidance  than  their  own  affinities, 
may  in  the  beginning  have  come  together  and  united  so  as  to 
form  the  Hving  structures  of  plants  and  animals.  But  a  much 
bolder  man  would  be  required  for  the  task  of  explaining  how 
the  molecules  of  these  same  elements  can,  under  any  conditions, 
or  in  any  relations,  acquire  the  power  of  feeling,  thought,  and 
will,  and  thus  pass  by  virtue  of  mere  collocation  from  the  domain 
of  matter  to  the  realm  of  mind.  Neither  these  substances  nor 
any  of  their  known  compounds  have  ever  shown  the  slightest 
evidence  of  sensibility,  although  they  have  been  subjected  for  a 
whole  century  to  the  tortures  of  the  laboratory.  Their  action 
is  determined,  not  by  the  presentation  of  motive,  but  by  the 
supply  of  the  proper  physical  conditions.  When  these  are  pres- 
ent it  takes  place,  no  matter  what  the  consequence  may  be. 
The  supposition  of  will  and  a  contemplated  end  determining 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.         107 

their  action  is  as  completely  negatived  by  the  experiments  of 
the  laboratory  as  their  possession  of  sensibility.  To  say,  in  op- 
position alike  to  the  conclusions  of  the  chemist  and  the  physicist, 
that  the  elementary  molecules  of  matter  may,  for  aught  we 
know  to  the  contrary,  be  endowed  with  a  latent  sensibility  and 
will  only  requiring  organic  conditions  for  their  manifestation, 
is  to  seek  refuge  in  our  ignorance,  which  neither  facts  nor  anal- 
ogies justify,  and  which,  in  the  circumstances,  can  hardly  be 
regarded  as  honest.  The  phenomena  of  mind  and  matter  not 
only  have  nothing  in  common,  but  are  so  unlike  as  to  render 
comparison  between  them  impossible.  Why,  then,  refer  them 
to  the  same  essence  ?  What  reason  for  assuming  that  they 
have  a  common  substratum  ?  If  the  phenomena  be  so  unlike, 
why  should  not  the  noumena  be  equally  unlike  ?  Why  not 
refer  the  two  groups  of  phenomena  to  two  distinct  essences, 
differing  in  their  nature  as  they  differ  in  their  manifestations  ? 
Does  not  a  true  philosophy  require  this  ?  But  it  is  said  that  we 
must  not  multiply  causes  unnecessarily.  Matter  is  in  the  field. 
We  are  certain  of  its  existence.  If  from  its  known  powers  we 
can  account  for  the  activities  of  mind,  without  invoking  other 
aid,  we  are  bound  to  do  so.  But  do  we  know  matter  any  better 
than  we  know  mind  ?  Have  not  as  many  philosophers  attempted 
to  solve  the  problem  of  the  universe  on  the  supposition  of  mind 
alone  as  on  a  purely  material  hypothesis  ?  Are  we  not  abso- 
lutely ignorant  of  the  essence  of  both  matter  and  mind  ?  Have 
we  any  other  warrant  for  supposing  their  existence  but  the 
causal  judgment  ?  and  does  not  this  require  that  the  essence 
should  be  in  the  strictest  relation  to  the  manifestation  of  a  na- 
ture exactly  fitted  for  producing  it  ?  When  the  manifestations 
are  totally  unlike,  so  as  to  exclude  the  possibility  of  comparison, 


108        THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

is  it  not  a  violation  of  one  of  the  plainest  dictates  of  the  reason 
to  refer  them,  without  evidence  of  the  fact,  to  the  same  essence? 
The  teachings  of  analogy  are,  moreover,  in  perfect  accordance 
with  the  requirements  of  the  principle  of  causality.  The  prog- 
ress of  knowledge  during  the  past  century,  while  it  has  tended 
to  the  unification  of  laws,  has  tended  equally  to  the  multiplica- 
tion of  substances.  Instead  of  four  elements,  as  in  the  time 
of  Aristotle,  we  now  reckon  more  than  threescore.  Several 
have  been  recently  added  to  those  previously  known,  by  the 
spectroscope.  Not  limited  in  its  explorations  to  our  planet,  this 
marvelous  instrument,  reaching  out  to  the  sun  and  stellar 
worlds,  discovers  in  these  distant  orbs  substances  not  known  to 
exist  on  the  earth.  Besides  the  different  kinds  of  matter 
brought  to  light  by  modern  research,  physicists  infer  the  exist- 
ence of  a  substance  incomparably  rarer  and  more  subtle  than 
any  known  form  of  matter.  This  substance  is  supposed  to  fill, 
if  not  the  entire  void  of  space,  that  finite  portion  of  it  which 
is  occupied  by  the  material  universe.  It  is  not  affected  by  grav- 
ity, and  gives  no  evidence  of  any  of  the  attractions  by  which 
ordinary  matter  is  animated.  It  is  so  tenuous  that  the  planets 
in  their  revolutions  about  the  sun  experience  no  appreciable  re- 
sistance from  it.  Motion  is  propagated  through  it  with  the  ve- 
locity of  light.  Many  billions  of  its  delicate  pulses  beat  upon 
the  retina  of  the  eye  every  second,  having  proceeded  from  the 
sun  with  a  rate  of  motion  which  would  carry  them  eight  times 
round  the  earth  during  the  same  brief  period.  If  the  physicist 
is  obliged  to  hypothecate  a  substance  so  unlike  any  kind  of  mat- 
ter to  account  for  the  phenomena  of  light  and  heat,  surely  we 
may  be  pardoned  for  failing  to  see  an  adequate  explanation  of 
thought,  feeling,  and  will  in  the  reactions  of  phosphorus  and 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.        109 

the  four  organic  elements.  Why  not  suppose  the  powers  of 
mind  to  inhere  in  a  substance  or  essence  as  much  more  subtle 
than  the  ethereal  medium  of  light  and  heat  as  that  is  than  the 
earth  under  our  feet  ?  , 

But,  it  is  said,  we  never  witness  any  exhibition  of  mental  phe- 
nomena except  in  connection  with  matter.  So  our  knowledge 
of  this  pulsating  ether,  embosoming  all  worlds,  is  gained  wholly 
through  matter,  upon  which  it  acts,  and  by  which  it  is  acted 
upon.  We  have  no  facilities  for  directly  apprehending  it,  more 
than  we  have  for  directly  apprehending  spirit.  We  learn  the 
existence  of  both  in  the  same  way,  —  through  their  material 
manifestations. 

Again,  it  is  said,  the  powers  of  the  mind  are  in  the  closest 
relationship  with  the  brain  :  that  when  this  is  stimulated  the 
mental  activities  are  quickened,  and  when  it  is  paralyzed  they 
cease  altogether ;  that  mere  pressure  upon  certain  parts  of  the 
brain  is  sufficient  to  destroy  consciousness.  The  fact  being  ad- 
mitted, does  it  prove  an}i:hing  more  than  that,  under  our  present 
constitution,  the  mind  is  dependent  in  the  exercise  of  its  powers 
upon  the  brain  ?  Do  the  discoveries  of  the  modem  physiologist 
do  more  than  specialize  this  dependence?  Do  any  of  them 
show,  or  tend  to  show,  that  the  brain  thinks,  or  that  thought  is 
a  secretion  of  the  brain,  oi;  in  any  way  a  functional  product  of 
that  organ  ?  Do  they  furnish  any  new  data  upon  which  to 
build  such  a  theory  ?  Do  we  at  the  present  hour  know  any  more 
of  the  actual  relation  of  the  mind  to  its  material  organ  than 
was  known  two  thousand  years  ago  ?  Is  not  the  gulf  between 
molecular  movements  and  neural  tremors,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  apprehension  of  truth  and  the  sense  of  duty,  on  the  other, 
impossible  in  thought  even, — as  absolutely  so  now  as  it  was  in  the 


110        THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

time  of  Plato  ?  This  is  admitted  by  Mr.  Tyndall  in  his  imagined 
interview  with  Bishop  Butler.  But  he  attempts  to  offset  it  by 
an  equal  difficulty  which  he  supposes  to  be  connected  with 
Bishop  Butler's  teaching.  Had  the  bishcjp  really  been  present, 
he  would  quickly  have  enlightened  the  savant  on  this  point.  He 
would  have  said,  "  Mr.  Tyndall,  I  do  not  suppose,  as  you  seem 
to  imagine,  the  powers  of  mind  to  be  independent,  detached 
from  all  substance,  and  resting  upon  nothing.  On  the  con- 
trary, I  believe  them  to  be  connected  with  an  essence  incompara- 
bly more  subtle  than  any  kind  of  matter,  —  a  substance  compos- 
ite and  organized  it  may  be,  but  with  parts  so  firmly  united  that 
the  dissolution  of  the  body  has  no  effect  upon  it."  To  this  re- 
ply of  the  bishop  I  do  not  see  how  the  accompHshed  professor, 
on  his  own  principles,  could  make  answer. 

Although  we  have  no  evidence,  it  may  be  further  said  that 
the  brain  actually  perceives  and  thinks,  and  can  hardly  suppose 
it,  yet,  after  all,  perception  and  thought  may  be  in  some  way 
the  products  of  its  action.  It  would  be  interesting  and  instruc- 
tive to  examine  some  of  the  attempts  that  have  been  made  to 
construct  a  material  theory  of  the  mental  phenomena,  and  see 
with  what  success  they  have  been  attended  ;  and  to  no  effort  of 
this  kind  could  we  better  turn  than  to  the  recent  work  of  G.  H. 
Lewes,  on  the  problems  of  life  and  mind.  Though  as  yet  incom- 
plete, the  volume  published  will  well  repay  a  perusal.  Like  all 
his  writings,  the  work  discloses  an  unrivaled  power  of  con- 
veying with  rare  beauty  of  expression  and  imagery  every  con- 
ceivable form  and  shade  of  thought.  It  is  from  such  a  pen,  if 
from  any,  that  we  should  expect  an  intelligible  explanation  of 
the  dynamics  of  the  brain  in  the  evolution  of  the  mental  pro- 
cesses.   In  attempting  this  explanation  Mr.  Lewes  does  not  con- 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.        HI 

fine  himself  to  ascertained  facts,  but,  with  unlimited  draft  upon 
the  imagination,  he  endeavors  to  show  how  we  may  suppose 
thought  to  emerge  from  its  organic  conditions  in  the  brain  and 
nervous  system.  He  tells  us  of  psychoplasm,  and  neural  units, 
and  serial  changes,  and  residua  of  experiences,  individual  and 
ancestral.  "  Psychoplasm  is  the  sentient  material  out  of  which 
all  the  forms  of  consciousness  are  evolved."  "  Psychoplasmic 
tremors  are  the  raw  materials  of  consciousness."  "  The  move- 
ments of  psychoplasm  constitute  sensibility."  "  The  psychical 
organism  is  evolved  from  psychoplasm."  "  The  soul  derives  its 
structure  and  powers  from  psychoplasm."  "  Psychoplasm  is 
the  mass  of  potential  feeling  derived  from  all  the  sensative  affec- 
tions of  the  organism,  not  only  of  the  individual,  but,  through 
heredity,  of  the  ancestral  organisms."  "  A  neural  unit  is  a 
tremor.  Several  units  are  grouped  into  a  higher  unity,  or  neu- 
ral process,  which  is  a  fusion  of  tremors,  as  a  sound  is  a  fusion 
of  aerial  pulses ;  and  each  process  may  in  turn  be  grouped  with 
others,  and  thus  from  this  grouping  of  groups  all  the  varieties 
emerge.  What  on  the  physiological  side  is  simply  a  neural 
process,  on  the  psychological  side  is  a  sentient  process.  We 
may  liken  sentience  to  combustion,  and  then  the  neural  units 
will  stand  for  the  oscillating  molecules."  A  neural  tremor  and 
sensibility  are  only  different  phases  of  the  same  thing.  It  may 
be  compared  to  a  curve  with  a  convex  and  a  concave  side,  one 
seen  from  without  and  the  other  from  within.  "  Sensibility 
may  be  said  to  rest  upon  seriated  change."  "  If  the  changes 
were  simply  movements,  physical  or  chemical,  they  would  not 
present  the  phenomena  of  consciousness."  "  They  must  be 
serial  and  convergent  through  a  consensus  determined  by  essen- 
tial community  of  structure."     "  Experience  is  the  registration 


112        THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT. 

of  feeling."  "  Experience  is  the  organic  registration  of  assimi- 
lated material."  "The  accumulated  experiences  of  ancestors, 
as  well  as  the  accumulated  experiences  of  the  individual,  leave 
residua  in  modifications  of  structure."  The  great  problem  of 
psychology  is  to  develop  all  psychical  phenomena  from  one 
fundamental  process  in  one  vital  tissue.  The  tissue  is  the  ner- 
vous ;  the  process  is  a  grouping  of  neural  units  in  tremors. 

Such  is  the  foundation  upon  which  Mr.  Lewes  aspires  to  build 
a  new  system  of  mental  philosophy.  Never  did  one  labor  at  a 
more  hopeless  task.  It  is  sorrowful  to  witness  the  efforts  of  so 
gifted  a  mind  put  forth  in  the  vain  endeavor  to  render  that 
which  is  untranslatable,  to  explain  that  which  is  inconceivable, 
to  illustrate  that  which  is  unthinkable. 

I  have  endeavored  to  signalize  some  of  the  difficulties  which 
lie  in  the  path  of  the  materialist. 

According  to  the  most  advanced  teachings  of  science,  the 
primary  constituents  of  matter  are  not  mere  atoms,  as  hereto- 
fore supposed,  whose  existence  demands  no  explanation,  but 
elaborately  organized  structures,  miniature  systems  of  worlds, 
as  much  to  be  accounted  for  as  the  larger  systems  built  from 
them. 

The  universe  is  not  eternal,  either  actually  or  potentially.  It 
has  had  a  beginning,  and  unless  sustained  by  a  power  without 
itself  it  will  have  an  end.  The  forces  by  which  the  existing 
order  of  things  is  maintained  are  being  constantly  expended, 
and  must  finally  be  lost  for  cosmic  purposes  by  diffusion 
through  space.  Many  such  universes  may  have  come  into  ex- 
istence, run  their  courses,  and  passed  away,  and  yet  hardly 
have  touched  the  resources  of  a  past  eternity. 

Under  the  materialistic   hypothesis  life  is  assumed  to  have 


THE  MATERIALISTIC  FORM  OF  DEVELOPMENT.        113 

commenced  in  our  world  by  the  spontaneous  generation  of 
plants  and  animals,  not  a  single  instance  of  which  has  ever 
come  within  the  range  of  human  experience.  Mr.  Huxley, 
though  freely  admitting  that  none  of  the  supposed  cases  of  this 
sort  will  bear  the  tests  of  a  rigorous  examination,  thinks  that 
such  an  event  may  have  occurred  at  an  early  period  of  the 
earth's  history,  when  things  were  in  a  formative  state.  He 
frankly  says,  however,  that  his  belief  is  an  act  of  philosophic 
faith  for  which  he  can  assign  no  sufficient  reason.  The  higher 
orders  of  plants  and  animals  are  claimed,  under  this  hypothesis, 
to  have  been  developed  from  the  lower  through  the  operation  of 
natural  causes  ;  and  yet  not  a  single  new  species  has  been  pro- 
duced within  the  period  of  reliable  observation,  although  the 
tendency  of  nature  has  been  seconded  by  the  efforts  of  man 
continued  through  many  centuries. 

All  the  phenomena  of  mind  are  in  like  manner  assumed  to 
be  evolved  by  a  material  organism  out  of  material  reactions. 
So  far  from  this  assumption  resting  on  any  solid  basis  of  ob- 
served facts,  it  is  seen  on  examination  to  involve  what  is  impos- 
sible in  thought,  -^  the  transmutation  of  mere  neural  tremors 
into  sensibility,  intelligence,  and  will.  Between  the  materialis- 
tic form  of  the  development  hypothesis,  thus  embarrassed  with 
difficulties  on  every  side,  and  the  belief  in  an  intelligent  Author 
of  nature,  to  which  all  its  arrangements  point,  our  choice  lies. 
Need  we  be  long  in  making  it  ? 
8 


OF  SOME  OF  THE  DIFFICULTIES   WITH  WHICH 
THEISM  IS   PRESSED. 


LECTURE  III. 

I  SPOKE  in  my  last  lecture  of  the  embarrassments  of  logical 
and  consistent  materialism.  But  is  theism,  it  may  be  asked, 
free  from  embarrassments  ?  Although  not  meeting  difficulties  of 
the  same  kind  as  those  encountered  by  materialism,  are  there 
not  others  equally  great  lying  in  its  path  ?  Do  we  not  see  in 
the  world  around  us  much  that  is  irreconcilable  with  the  idea 
of  a  benevolent,  wise,  and  all-powerful  Creator  ?  How  shall  we 
explain,  on  such  a  theory,  the  origin  and  continuance  of  phys- 
ical and  of  moral  evil,  which  cast  their  dark  shadows  to  so  ap- 
palling an  extent  over  human  society  ?  How  account  for  so 
much  of  accident,  and  disorder,  and  failure  in  the  attainment  of 
proposed  ends,  and  perversion  of  faculties  from  their  intended 
uses,  and,  finally,  for  the  very  imperfect  accomplishment  of  any 
conceivable  object  of  the  creation  ?  Before  proceeding  to  a  spe- 
cial examination  of  these  difficulties,  I  wish  to  premise  one  or 
two  general  truths  which  it  is  important  to  bear  in  mind  while 
considering  them. 

The  teleologist,  when  he  surveys  the  outward  world,  in  the 
same  way  as  when  he  examines  a  creation  of  man,  sees  means, 
ends,  and  incidents.     All  things  and  events  come  under  one  of 


DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS   THEISM.  115 

these  categories,  and  not  a  few  have  a  place  at  the  same  time 
under  two  of  them.  The  ends  alone  reveal  the  will  and  char- 
acter of  God.  The  means  are  simply  devices  for  the  attain- 
ment of  the  end.  The  incidents  are  collateral,  and  flow  from 
other  properties  associated  with  the  available  one  in  the  means. 
The  mistaking  of  incidents  for  ends  has  given  rise  to  much 
bad  theology,  and  the  failure  to  distinguish  clearly  between  in- 
cidents and  ends  to  not  a  little  loose  theology.  Teleology  de- 
pends upon  this  distinction.  Ignore  it,  and  the  science  becomes 
impossible.  Teleological  deductions  are  reliable  in  proportion 
as  this  distinction  is  recognized  and  kept  steadily  in  view. 

What  are  ends  considered  in  reference  to  one  group  of  con- 
trivances may  hold  this  place  in  another  group  of  means  to 
higher  ends,  and  these  higher  ends  may  in  their  turn  become 
means  to  yet  higher,  and  the  series  may  continue  to  advance 
indefinitely.  The  heart  and  arteries  are  means  to  the  circula- 
tion of  the  blood.  The  circulation  of  the  blood  is  a  means  to 
the  proper  nutrition  of  the  various  tissues ;  and  the  proper  nutri- 
tion of  the  tissues  is  a  means  to  health  and  vigor  ;  and,  finally, 
health  and  vigor  are  means  to  the  well-being  of  the  individual. 
Gravity  is  the  agency  employed  for  putting  the  winds  in  mo- 
tion. The  winds  are  the  bearers  of  the  clouds.  The  clouds 
water  the  earth.  The  earth  ministers  sustenance  to  plants,  and 
plants  provide  food  for  animals.  It  is  the  ultimate  sum  of  the 
series,  the  last  and  highest  end,  that  discloses  most  fully  the 
character  of  the  Author. 

In  the  works  of  nature  as  well  as  in  human  devices,  in  the 
works  of  God  as  well  as  of  man,  obstacles  of  an  incidental  char- 
acter may  stand  in  the  way  of  the  ends  sought.  If  their 
obstructive  tendency  be  but  inconsiderable,  they  may  be  allowed 


116 


DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS   THEISM. 


to  remain,  and  impair  to  that  extent  the  perfectness  of  the 
result.  If  the  obstruction  opposed  by  them  be  more  serious, 
fitting  instrumentalities  are  provided  for  their  more  or  less 
complete  removal. 


THE    DOCTRINE    OF   THE    INCIDENTAL. 

Every  species  of  matter,  so  far  as  it  is  known  to  us,  consists 
of  a  group  of  properties  united  to  one  another  by  indissoluble 
ties.  Whenever  we  desire  to  avail  ourselves  of  one  of  these 
properties  for  any  purpose,  we  are  obliged  to  take  the  other 
properties  along  with  it.  These  associated  properties,  carrying 
into  the  device  activities  of  their  own,  always  interfere  to  a 
greater  or  less  extent  with  the  object  in  view.  If  the  interfer- 
ence is  slight,  we  allow  it  to  continue ;  if  of  a  more  serious 
character,  we  employ  such  means  as  may  be  at  our  command 
for  controlling  it. 

Thus  friction,  from  the  very  constitution  of  matter,  is  insep- 
arable from  the  working  of  all  machinery.  We  may  reduce  it 
by  polished  surfaces  and  lubricating  fluids ;  but  we  cannot  en- 
tirely remove  it.  Enough  still  remains,  not  only  to  absorb  a 
very  considerable  portion  of  the  transmitted  force,  but  in  the 
end  to  destroy  the  machinery  itself.  This  friction  emerges 
directly  from  the  cohesion  which  confers  upon  the  machinery, 
while  it  lasts,  its  solidity  and  strength.  In  other  relations,  fric- 
tion becomes  an  important  means  to  ends.  We  provide  for  it 
in  hard  and  roughened  surfaces.  Without  friction  locomotion 
would  be  impossible.  The  air  would  oppose  no  resistance  to  the 
wing  of  the  bird ;  the  earth  would  offer  no  reaction  to  the 
foot  of  man  or  of  beast ;  the  wheel  of  the  locomotive  would 
whirl  idly  upon  the  rail. 


DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS   THEISM.  117 

All  the  other  primary  forces  of  matter  are  equally  ready  with 
cohesion  to  lend  us  their  friendly  assistance  in  the  accomplish- 
ment of  our  purposes,  and  not  less  ready  in  different  relations 
to  aid  in  defeating  those  purposes.  Gravity  finally  pulls  down 
the  columns  and  temples  to  which  for  ages  it  has  imparted  sta- 
bility. Chemical  affinity  takes  to  pieces  the  beautiful  struc- 
tures, organic  and  mineral,  which  it  has  assisted  in  building. 
Vishnu  and  Siva  are  only  different  appearances  of  the  same 
god. 

If  we  examine  any  of  the  most  successful  of  human  inven- 
tions, we  shall  perceive  them  to  be  full  of  defects  and  limita- 
tions, arising  from  the  source  here  indicated.  Take  the  steam- 
engine,  for  example.  Throughout  its  entire  structure,  from  the 
ash  pit  to  the  walking-beam,  we  find  it  looking  to  a  single  end, 
—  the  generation  of  force.  Every  part  is  so  formed,  and  of 
such  material,  as  to  fit  it  most  perfectly  for  its  use.  The  bars 
of  the  grate  are  of  iron,  and  are  made  thin  and  deep.  The 
walls  of  the  furnace  are  built  of  bricks,  as  nearly  fire-proof  as 
possible.  The  boiler  is  constructed  of  heavy  and  thoroughly 
wrought  sheets  of  the  strongest  known  metal.  Every  part  is 
made  to  last.  Guards  are,  moreover,  set  at  all  points  where 
danger  of  accident  is  apprehended.  The  builder  has  omitted 
nothing  which  could  tend  to  insure  its  safe  and  continuous 
working. 

And  yet  the  bars  of  the  grate  melt  or  burn  out.  The  walls 
of  the  furnace  crumble  away.  The  boiler  leaks,  or,  becoming 
weak,  explodes,  and  spreads  destruction  on  every  side ;  or,  if 
such  a  catastrophe  do  not  occur,  the  engine  gradually  wears  out, 
and  at  lenonth  falls  into  a  mass  of  ruins. 

But  was  any  one  of  these  accidents  or  events  intended  to 


118  DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS    THEISM. 

happen  ?  Were  these  provisions  in  the  structure  of  the  engine 
looking  to  it  as  an  end  ?  Was  it  a  part  of  the  design  of  the 
builder  ?  Or  was  it  not  rather  incident  to  the  nature  of  the 
materials  in  which  the  design  was  embodied  ?  —  materials,  too, 
selected  with  the  most  careful  regard  to  uses  which  they  were 
to  subserve.  Would  it  be  just  to  the  builder  of  the  engine  to 
say  he  meant  that  the  boiler  should  explode,  that  the  walls  of 
the  furnace  should  crumble,  that  the  bars  of  the  grate  should 
burn  out  ?  —  that  he  made  special  provision  for  all  this  in  the 
construction  of  the  engine  ?  Surely  there  can  be  but  one  an- 
swer to  this  question. 

In  all  human  contrivances,  that  which  tasks  the  inventive 
faculty  most  severely  is  not  the  origination  of  the  design,  but 
the  overcoming  of  the  difficulties  met  with  in  its  practical  em- 
bodiment. The  former  is  often  the  work  of  but  a  single  mo- 
ment. The  latter  may  require  the  labor  of  years.  Finally,  in- 
cidents obstructive  to  the  object  of  the  device  from  which  they 
immediately  flow,  instead  of  being  controlled  by  further  devices, 
may,  through  the  complex  relations  of  things,  be  made  subser- 
vient to  other  and  higher  ends,  provided  for  by  a  more  extended 
circle  of  agencies.  This  obtains  very  widely  in  both  the  natural 
and  the  moral  worlds.  It  is  the  divine  method  of  bringing 
good  out  of  evil. 

Permit  me  to  illustrate  by  example  the  three  different  cases 
enumerated.  Take  first  an  instance  of  the  imperfect  attainment 
of  the  end  sought  through  causes  incidentally  connected  with 
the  means  employed  for  reaching  it.  I  have  referred  to  the 
machinery  of  vapor,  wind,  and  cloud,  by  which  water  is  lifted 
from  the  ocean  and  borne  over  the  continents,  to  be  distilled 
in  gentle  rain  upon  mountain  and  valley,  upon  field,  meadow, 


DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS   THEISM.  119 

and  forest.  No  one  can  doubt  that  the  object  of  the  beautiful 
contrivance  is  the  fertilization  of  the  earth.  And  yet  is  this 
object  fuUy  accompHshed  ?  Does  rain  always  fall  where  and 
when  it  is  needed  ?  Is  not  a  large  part  of  the  water  thus  lifted 
from  the  ocean  returned  again  to  its  bosom,  without  ever 
reaching  the  continents  ?  Do  not  droughts  occur  in  all  lands  ? 
On  the  two  largest  of  the  continents  are  there  not  vast  deserts, 
where  rain  never  falls,  —  limitless  regions  of  perpetual  barren- 
ness ?  Can  any  one  doubt  that  these  droughts  and  deserts  are 
incidents  of  the  plan  adopted  for  watering  the  earth,  —  that 
they  are  immediately  dependent  upon  the  physical  conforma- 
tions of  its  surface,  which  conformations  were  evolved  under 
wide  and  far-reaching  laws  ?  Does  any  one  suppose  that  they 
were  specially  provided  for,  and  are  in  themselves  ends  ?  Could 
we,  by  opening  a  channel  between  the  Atlantic  Ocean  and  the 
interior  of  the  African  desert,  convert  that  vast  Sahara  into  a 
garden,  should  we  be  deterred  from  doing  so  by  the  fear  that 
we  might  be  thwarting  the  divine  purposes  ?  Was  irrigation 
ever  objected  to  by  any  intelligent  man  on  such  a  ground  ? 
Again  :  gravitation  is  a  fundamental  law  of  matter.  Its  reign 
is  as  wide  as  the  universe.  It  is  the  principle  of  stability 
throughout  nature.  -On  the  earth,  it  is  the  preserver  of  order. 
It  gives  fixedness  of  position  to  bodies.  By  restraining  loco- 
motion it  enables  us  to  direct  and  control  it.  It  underhes  all 
other  provisions  for  our  happiness,  and  in  ordinary  circum- 
stances ministers  constantly  to  our  safety  and  well-being.  Can 
any  one  doubt  the  beneficent  purpose  of  its  ordination  ?  And 
yet,  in  certain  emergencies  which  are  liable  to  arise,  it  becomes 
a  destroying  agent.  It  seizes  upon  the  incautious  or  too  ven- 
turesome  traveler,  and  drags   him    over  the   precipice,  to   be 


120  DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS  THEISM. 

dashed  to  pieces  at  the  bottom.  It  hurls  the  avalanche  down 
the  side  of  the  mountain  upon  little  villages  sleeping  at  its  foot. 
It  gives  direction  to  the  molten  rock  as  it  issues  from  the  mouth 
of  the  volcano,  and  hurries  the  fiery  torrent  on  its  wrathful  way 
towards  the  devoted  city.  In  the  midst  of  darkness  and  tem- 
pest it  whelms  the  noble  ship,  and  carries  the  vessel  down  with 
its  living  freight  to  the  depths  of  ocean.  Does  any  one  believe 
these  events  were  among  the  ends  contemplated  in  the  institu- 
tion of  the  law  of  gravitation,  or  that  the  circumstances  were 
specially  arranged  for  bringing  them  about  ?  Could  the  danger 
have  been  foreseen  in  any  of  the  cases  supposed,  who  would 
have  hesitated,  from  such  an  idea,  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  avert 
the  calamity  ?  I  do  not  ask  whether  these  events  were  foreseen 
by  God,  or  whether  the  constitution  of  things  to  which  they 
were  foreseen  to  be  incidental  justified  itself  to  the  divine  wis- 
dom, and  was  adopted  as  the  best  constitution,  but  whether  the 
foreseeing  of  these  events  weighed  in  favor  of  its  adoption,  or, 
to  vary  slightly  the  language  of  the  question,  whether  the  con- 
stitution chosen  embodied  provisions  looking  specially  to  these 
events,  and  such  embodiment  was  one  of  the  grounds  of  the 
divine  choice.  Now,  I  hold  that  no  man  in  his  sober  senses 
can  or  dare  answer  the  question  in  the  affirmative. 

To  prevent  any  possible  misunderstanding,  I  desire  to  say,  be- 
fore proceeding  further,  that  the  questions  which  we  are  now 
considering  are  all  teleological.  They  have  no  relation  whatever 
to  God's  providence.  The  providential  question  is  of  an  entirely 
different  character,  and  depends  upon  different  evidence.  It  is 
a  question  of  God's  procedure  after  having  established  a  consti- 
tution of  things.  It  is  whether  He  does  not,  in  goodness,  see  fit 
to  interpose  in  behalf  of  His  creatures,  and  ward  off  evils  which 


DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS   THEISM.  121 

would  otherwise  befall  them  under  that  constitution,  or  confer, 
it  may  be,  special  blessings.  This  question  comes  under  an  en- 
tirely different  category,  and  will  be  included  in  the  subject  of 
my  next  lecture. 

Numerous  examples  of  preventive  and  remedial  provisions  are 
found  in  the  human  organization.  Such  provisions,  in  fact, 
make  up  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  it.  They  attest,  in  the 
strongest  manner  possible,  the  reality  of  the  distinction  between 
incident  and  end,  not  kept  sufficiently  in  view,  as  I  think,  by 
most  theologians,  and  wholly  ignored  by  the  disciples  of  the 
Darwinian  and  Positive  schools  of  philosophy.  My  first  illus- 
tration shall  be  from  the  eye.  The  front  part  of  the  outer  coat 
or  envelope  of  this  organ  is  transparent,  as  every  one  knows,  for 
the  admission  of  light.  It  retains  its  transparency,  however, 
only  so  long  as  it  continues  moist.  The  opaqueness  which  gath- 
ers upon  the  eye  so  soon  after  death  is  owing  simply  to  the 
drying  of  its  surface.  During  life  the  same  thing  would  hap- 
pen, were  there  no  provision  against  it.  To  prevent  an  occur- 
rence that  would  prove  fatal  to  vision,  a  small  gland  is  placed 
just  within  the  outer  angle  of  the  orbit,  having  for  its  office  the 
secretion  of  tears.  These,  constantly  oozing  out  upon  the  in- 
side of  the  upper  lid,  are  conveyed  by  its  rapid  passes  over  the 
eye  to  all  the  exposed  parts  of  its  surface.  Fresh  quantities  of 
moisture  are  in  this  way  continually  pouring  into  the  eye,  to 
supply  the  place  of  that  which  is  lost  by  evaporation.  Thus  we 
see  that  the  volatility  of  the  tears,  which  belongs  to  them  as 
much  as  their  lubricating  and  clarifying  properties,  and  which, 
were  there  no  protection  for  averting  the  end,  would  wholly  de- 
feat the  purpose  of  the  eye,  is  met  and  rendered  harmless  by  the 
introduction  of  an  additional  organ  specially  assigned  to  that 
office. 


122  DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS   THEISM. 

Nor  does  the  provision  for  securing  the  eye  against  the  effects 
of  evaporation  stop  here.  If  the  tears  which  are  continually 
flowing  in  upon  the  organ  were  suffered  to  dry  away  upon  its 
surface,  there  would  soon  be  an  accumulation  of  residual  matter, 
consisting  of  various  animal  and  saline  substances.  This  gradu- 
ally thickening,  and  becoming  charged  with  particles  of  dust,  of 
which  the  air  always  contains  a  greater  or  less  quantity,  would 
presently  induce  inflammation  in  the  organ,  and  in  the  end  de- 
stroy it.  As  a  protection  against  this  evil,  there  is  provided 
a  large  excess  of  the  lachrymal  fluid  over  and  above  what  is 
needed  to  supply  the  evaporation  ;  enough,  in  fact,  to  wash  the 
eye  and  preserve  it  free  from  every  impurity.  But  then  this  ex- 
cess of  fluid  must  be  disposed  of.  If  allowed  to  accumulate  in 
the  eye  until  it  should  flow  over  the  lid,  besides  the  inconven- 
ience of  a  constant  trickling  down  the  cheek,  it  would  in  time 
occasion  disease  in  the  organ  itself,  as  is  shown  from  experience. 
To  meet  this  new  difficulty,  a  still  further  contrivance  is  resorted 
to.  A  very  delicate  tube  is  inserted  just  at  the  inner  angle  of 
the  eye,  terminating  above  by  a  bifurcation  in  the  edges  of  the 
upper  and  lower  lids,  and  below  in  the  adjacent  passage  of  the 
nose.  The  tears,  as  fast  as  they  accumulate,  are  taken  up  by 
this  tube  and  conveyed  to  the  nose,  where,  spread  over  a  large 
surface,  they  quickly  evaporate,  and  pass  off  with  the  other  ex- 
halations attendant  on  respiration.  So  complex  is  the  lachrymal 
apparatus  appended  to  the  eye  for  the  express  purpose  of  meet- 
ing liabilities  incidentally  connected  with  its  structure  and  use. 

Can  any  one  who  believes  in  an  intelligent  Author  of  nature 
suppose  for  a  moment  the  drying  of  the  cornea  and  the  thick- 
ening of  the  tears  by  evaporation,  to  be  ends  contemplated  in 
the  formation  of  the  eye  ?  the  object  of  contrivance,  as  much 


DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS   THEISM.  123 

SO  as  the  means  devised  for  preventing  the  evils  that  would  arise 
from  them  ?  to  be  as  much  provided  for,  and  as  truly  included 
in,  the  design  and  purpose  of  the  organ,  as  vision  ?  Such  an 
idea  could  surely  not  be  entertained  except  by  those  who  reject 
the  doctrine  of  final  causes,  and  refuse  to  see  indications  of 
mind  in  nature. 

Take  another  example.  The  frail  and  delicate  materials  of 
which  our  bodies  are  formed  render  them  liable  to  injuries  of 
various  kinds,  while  their  complex  structure  exposes  them  to 
disorders  almost  without  number.  Muscles  may  be  cut.  Lig- 
aments may  be  torn.  Bones  may  be  broken.  Limbs  may  be 
severed.  Teeth  decay.  The  lungs  inflame.  The  heart  en- 
larges, or  its  valves  ossify.  The  stomach  is  disordered.  The 
secretions  of  the  liver  become  obstructed.  These,  and  ten  thou- 
sand other  accidents  and  disorders,  are  incident  to  our  constitu- 
tion and  the  circumstances  in  which  we  are  placed.  We  cannot, 
however,  on  this  account,  suppose  them  to  enter  in  any  way  into 
the  purpose  intended  to  be  accomplished  in  our  creation,  —  to 
have  been  specially  provided  for  in  our  organization,  and  sought 
as  ends.  Such  an  idea  is  wholly  irreconcilable  with  the  reme- 
dial provisions  which  we  find  incorporated  in  the  structure  not 
only  of  man,  but  of  all  the  lower  animals,  —  provisions  for  the 
reparation  of  injuries,  and  the  reproduction  even  of  those  parts 
which  have  been  lost  by  accident  or  disease.  These  evils  grow 
out  of  the  nature  of  the  substances  of  which  organized  beings 
are  composed,  and  from  which  they  derive  all  their  powers. 
Matter  continuing  what  it  is,  the  beings  formed  of  it  must  be 
liable  to  injury ;  and  in  proportion  as  their  organizations  are 
complex  and  the  circumstances  of  their  existence  variable,  they 
must  be  liable  to  disorder.     Among  the  lowest  races  we  find 


124  DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS   THEISM. 

animals  with  structures  so  simple,  and  living  under  conditions 
so  uniform,  that  they  are  scarcely  more  liable  to  disease  than 
the  elements  of  which  they  are  formed.  As  their  faculties  are 
proportionally  limited,  they  have  little  power  of  avoiding  dan- 
ger, and  are  consequently  peculiarly  exposed  to  mutilation  and 
injury.  As  a  compensation  for  this,  they  are  endowed  (the 
simplicity  of  their  structures  admitting  it)  with  the  most  aston- 
ishing powers  of  recovery,  entire  limbs,  and  in  some  instances 
the  eyes  even,  being  reproduced  in  a  short  time  after  they  have 
been  lost.  As  we  rise  in  the  scale  of  organized  life,  we  meet 
with  animals  of  a  more  complex  structure,  possessing  a  wider 
range  of  faculties,  and  having  greater  powers  of  avoiding  the 
dangers  to  which  they  are  exposed.  These  suffer  less  frequently 
in  the  integrity  of  their  parts.  Their  power  of  repairing  inju- 
ries and  supplying  losses  is  also  less  remarkable.  At  the  same 
time  they  are  more  liable  to  disease,  on  account  of  the  greater 
number  and  delicacy  of  the  relations  subsisting  between  their 
several  parts;  and  the  vis  medicatrix  naturce  is  stronger  in 
them,  owing,  it  is  probable,  to  the  same  cause.  This  type  of 
character  is  most  strongly  exemplified  in  man,  who  stands  at  the 
head  of  the  animal  creation,  and  who,  besides  combining  in  his 
structure  a  greater  number  and  variety  of  parts  than  any  other 
animal,  is  also  endowed  with  intellectual  and  moral  faculties, 
which  add  still  further  to  the  elaborateness  of  his  constitution. 
His  life  is  also  more  varied,  and  takes  in  a  far  wider  range  of 
both  character  and  circumstances  than  that  of  any  other  animal. 
We  accordingly  find  him  more  liable  to  disease,  oftener  suffering 
from  organic  and  functional  derangement.  At  the  same  time 
his  system,  including  within  it  a  greater  number  of  checks  and 
balances,  possesses  greater  recuperative  powers ;  so  that  disor- 


DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS    THEISM.  125 

ders,  though  more  various  and  more  frequent,  do  not  so  gen- 
erally prove  fatal  with  him  as  with  the  lower  animals. 

Could  there  be  stronger  proof  of  the  incidental  character  of 
the  physical  evils  complained  of  than  is  thus  afforded  ?  If  in 
themselves  intended,  or  if  the  result  of  want  of  thought  or 
care,  whence  the  preventive  and  remedial  devices  so  numerous 
and  striking  not  only  in  man,  but  in  all  living  beings  ?  Indeed 
it  may  be  doubted  whether  more  of  the  contrivances  embodied 
in  the  animal  organs  are  for  rendering  the  available  properties 
of  matter  tributary  to  their  varied  functions,  or  for  holding  in 
restraint  other  accompanying  properties  which  tend  to  impede 
and  obstruct  those  functions.  So  difficult  was  the  problem  of 
rearing  for  the  earth  out  of  its  own  dust  fitting  inhabitants ! 
If  the  practical  solution  reached  is  not  unattended  with  evils, 
the  provisions  made  in  so  many  cases  for  checking  or  remedy- 
ing these  evils  are  sufficient  to  vindicate  the  divine  goodness 
from  aspersion  on  that  account.  If  there  is  limitation,  of  which 
I  see  no  proof,  it  must  be  limitation  in  power.^ 

1  There  are  other  difficulties  encountered  by  the  Christian  theist,  which,  if  we 
adopt  the  modern  theory  of  evolution,  the  doctrine  of  the  incidental  assists  us  in 
clearing  away.  I  refer  to  the  origin  of  the  innumerable  parasites  which  infest  the 
bodies  of  animals  both  internally  and  externally,  and  of  the  hosts  of  destructive 
insects  which  prey  upon  the  fruits  of  the  earth  and  bring  to  naught  so  often  the 
labors  of  man.  It  is  hardly  compatible  with  any  idea  we  can  form  of  God  to  im- 
agine Him  occupied  with  the  formation  of  many  of  these  beings.  Mr.  Kirby, 
author  of  one  of  the  Bridge  water  treatises,  supposes  them  to  have  been  created  after 
the  fall  of  man,  and  to  be  among  the  instrumentalities  devised  for  his  punishment. 
Such  a  notion,  however,  in  the  present  state  of  our  geological  knowledge,  is  scarcely 
tenable.  But  if  we  suppose  the  varied  forms  of  life  on  our  globe,  instead  of  being  di- 
rectly created,  to  have  been  evolved  under  organic  and  physical  laws  so  adjusted  as 
to  provide  for  the  earth  at  each  successive  stage  in  its  history  appropriate  inhabi- 
tants, we  may  then  conceive  a  multitude  of  beings,  which  we  can  hardly  imagine  God 
to  take  pleasure  in  forming,  to  have  been  wrapped  up  iu  the  folds  of  these  compre- 


126  DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS  THEISM. 

But  I  have  not  yet  done  with  the  doctrine  of  the  incidental. 
If  I  mistake  not,  it  is  the  key  to  most  of  the  difficulties  with 
which  theism  is  supposed  to  be  embarrassed.  It  is  in  this  doc- 
trine that  moral  evil,  as  well  as  physical,  so  far  as  the  problem 
comes  within  the  grasp  of  the  human  understanding,  finds  its 
true  explanation.  The  liability  to  injury  and  disease  insepara- 
bly connected  with  man's  physical  organization  has  its  parallel 
in  the  liability  to  do  wrong  inseparably  connected  with  his  con- 
stitution as  a  moral  agent.  This  will,  I  think,  appear,  if  we 
consider  the  elements  which  enter  into  that  constitution. 

There  is  first  the  personality  or  will,  free  and  in  equipoise. 
Around  this,  and  acting  upon  it  as  motive  powers,  are  the  affec- 
tions, the  appetites,  and  the  passions.  To  these  may  be  added 
the  reason,  or  self-love,  and  the  conscience,  which,  enlightened 
by  the  intelligence,  may  act  either  as  impelling  or  as  guiding  and 
restraining  forces.  The  affections,  appetites,  and  passions,  when 
quickened  into  activity  by  the  presence,  either  real  or  imagined, 
of  their  appropriate  objects,  awaken  desire  and  prompt  to  action. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  reason  and  conscience  considered  as  im- 
pelling forces.  To  insure  right  conduct,  these  several  principles 
of  action  must  be  properly  adjusted  to  one  another,  and  also 
to  the  circumstances  in  which  the  being  is  placed.  So  long  as 
the  required  adjustments,  internal  and  external,  continue  undis- 
turbed, —  that  is,  so  long  as  the  nature  and  the  environments, 
the  two  factors  entering  into  motion,  remain  without  change,  — 
such  a  being  would  be  incapable  of  a  wrong  action.     He  would 

hensive  laws,  however  wisely  and  beneficently  ordained.  The  waste  of  destructive 
insects  and  the  annoyance  of  bodily  pests,  like  disease  and  accident,  are  only  inci- 
dents, and  not  ends,  in  the  divine  plan.  The  further  back  we  suppose  evolution 
under  law  to  be  carried,  the  more  room  is  opened  for  collateral  effects  not  in  them- 
selves intended,  and  the  greater  becomes  the  explanatory  power  of  the  principle 
which  it  is  the  object  of  the  lecture  to  set  forth. 


i 


DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS    THEISM.  127 

be  a  perfect  moral  machine.  He  would,  however,  be  only  a  ma- 
chine. He  would  have  no  self -regulating  power  ;  nor  could  he 
need  any.  His  action  would  be  as  certain,  and,  with  the  requisite 
knowledge  of  the  two  factors  of  the  motive  or  motives  prompt- 
ing it,  might  be  as  certainly  predicted,  as  that  of  any  other 
machine. 

But  such  are  not  the  conditions  of  man's  being.  He  is  him- 
self not  only  liable  to  change,  but  is  continually  changing, 
through  the  influence  of  habit.  Every  act  either  strengthens 
an  old  habit  or  tends  to  form  a  new  one.  It  is  upon  this  power 
of  forming  habits  that  his  capacity  for  growth  depends.  With- 
out it  he  would  be  incapable  of  progress,  either  individually  or 
as  a  race.  His  environments  are  no  more  fixed  than  his  char- 
acter. They,  too,  are  continually  changing.  Hence,  however 
perfectly  we  may  suppose  the  active  principles  in  man's  consti- 
tution to  be  adjusted,  without  the  addition  of  a  self -regulating 
power  such  nicety  of  adjustment  could  not  long  continue.  By 
change  of  character  or  change  of  circumstances,  or  of  both,  the 
balance  of  forces  would  quickly  be  deranged,  and  when  derange- 
ment had  once  taken  place  it  would  tend  constantly  to  increase, 
until  at  length  the  machine  would  become  so  disordered  as  no 
longer  to  answer  the  ends.  To  remedy  as  far  as  possible  this 
defect,  and  also  to  convert  the  machine  into  a  responsible  agent, 
the  power  of  choice  is  added.  By  virtue  of  this  endo\\Tnent 
he  may  select  from  among  the  courses  of  action  offering  them- 
selves. He  may  choose  that  which  seems  to  be  the  highest  and 
most  worthy,  although  urged  by  a  stronger  impulse  towards  one 
lower  and  less  worthy.  He  may  adhere  steadfastly  to  the  right, 
however  tempted  by  interest  to  swerve  from  it.  He  may  obey 
the  dictates  of  reason  and  conscience  in  opposition  to  the  clam- 


128  DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS   THEISM. 

ors  of  appetite  and  passion.  By  the  right  exercise  of  this  power 
of  choice  and  by  correspondent  courses  of  action  he  may  grad- 
ually change  his  whole  character,  and  bring  it  into  harmony  at 
the  same  time  with  the  ends  of  his  being  and  with  the  circum- 
stances in  which  he  is  placed,  whatever  those  circumstances  may 
be :  and  the  responsibility  of  doing  this  is  laid  upon  him  by  the 
Creator.  The  power  conferred  is  the  ground  of  the  obligation. 
In  a  similar  way  he  may  fit  himself  for  special  spheres  of  life 
and  action,  however  much  he  may  have  lacked  by  nature  the 
requisite  qualifications.  The  power  of  choice,  together  with  the 
gradual  change  of  character  through  its  continual  exercise,  opens 
to  man  all  moral  possibilities,  —  possibilities  of  evil  as  well  as  of 
good.  Both  are  dependent  upon  the  same  constitution,  and  so 
far  as  we  can  see  are  inseparable  from  it.  Nay,  more  than  this, 
the  evil  is  incident  to  the  very  features  of  that  constitution 
which  render  the  good  possible.  It  grows  immediately  out  of 
the  provisions  for  the  good,  —  out  of  endowments  which  lie  at 
the  foundation  of  man's  capacity  for  improvement,  which  give 
to  his  being  its  chief  dignity  and  worth,  which  open  to  him  all 
his  highest  sources  of  happiness,  which  constitute  by  far  the 
most  important  distinction  between  him  and  the  lower  orders  of 
the  animal  creation.  The  very  idea  of  an  accountable  being  in- 
volves the  power  of  choice,  and  without  that  of  growth  exist- 
ence to  a  finite  intelligence  would  before  long  lose  its  zest. 

That  moral  evil  appeared  and  continues  in  the  world  as  an 
incident,  and  not  by  special  design,  might  be  inferred,  even  if 
the  fact  were  not  so  apparent  on  looking  at  its  source,  from  the 
restraint  imposed  on  it  by  natural  as  well  as  human  laws.  Still 
further  proof  that  it  was  not  purposed  nor  desired  is  found  in  the 
costly  provision  made  for  remedying  it.     This  to  the  believer  in 


DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS  THEISM.  129 

Christianity  must  alone  be  a  su£6.cient  answer  to  any  charge 
preferred  against  the  divine  goodness  on  account  of  a  consti- 
tution of  things  permitting  it ;  while  its  manifestly  incidental 
character,  as  well  as  the  checks  and  hindrances  naturally  op- 
posed to  it,  should  forever  silence  the  cavils  of  those  who  do  not 
accept  the  teachings  of  our  holy  religion. 

But,  after  all,  it  may  be  said  that  the  great  extent  to  which 
moral  and  physical  evil  has  always  prevailed  in  the  world 
argues  limitation  in  either  the  divine  goodness  or  the  divine 
power ;  or  in  the  less  reverent  but  more  forcible  language  some- 
times used,  "  Either  God  could  n't  make  a  better  world  or  He 
would  n't."  Let  us  look  a  little  more  closely  at  this  short-hand 
logic,  and  see  whether  the  supposed  dilemma  in  the  sense  im- 
plied is  really  forced  upon  us ;  whether  the  facts  in  the  case 
afford  evidence  of  limitation  in  any  of  the  attributes  of  Deity. 

In  the  first  place,  I  think  it  will  be  admitted  that  inability  to 
do  that  which  in  the  nature  of  things  is  impossible  implies  in 
no  proper  sense  limitation  of  power.  That  God  cannot  make 
Himself,  or  the  universe  created  by  Him,  or  any  part  of  that  uni- 
verse,—  never  to  have  been;  that  He  cannot  make  right  wrong, 
or  wrong  right,  good  evil,  or  evil  good ;  that  he  cannot  alter  ax- 
iomatic truths,  and  cause  the  whole  to  be  less  than  the  sum  of 
its  parts,  or  a  straight  line  to  be  other  than  the  shortest  distance 
between  two  points ;  or  two  and  two  to  be  more  or  less  than 
four,  does  not  touch  the  question  of  His  power.  It  has  no  re- 
lation whatever  to  any  intelligent  or  intelligible  conception  of 
the  divine  omnipotence. 

In  the  second  place,  the  inability  to  reconcile  incompatibles 
and  cause  them  to  coexist  does  not  arise  from  lack  of  power. 
Neither  does  it  in  any  way  imply  or  suggest  lack  of  power. 


130  DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS   THEISM. 

That  God  cannot  make  a  thing  to  be  and  not  to  be  at  the  same 
time ;  that  He  cannot  make  a  body  at  the  same  time  both  round 
and  square,  both  rough  and  smooth,  both  hard  and  soft,  both 
light  and  heavy,  or  both  at  rest  and  in  motion,  or  do  a  hundred 
other  things  including  like  incompatibles,  is  in  no  way  deroga- 
tory to  the  divine  nature.  The  reconcilement  of  the  essentially 
irreconcilable  comes  no  more  within  the  compass  of  infinite 
than  of  finite  power. 

When  revising  our  opinions  and  beliefs,  to  be  sure  that  they 
are  well  founded,  are  we  more  startled  at  the  discovery  of 
incompatibles,  not  so  glaring,  indeed,  as  those  instanced,  but  as 
real,  which  may  have  lain  in  the  mind  side  by  side  for  years,  or 
perhaps  a  lifetime,  without  our  having  noticed  them  ?  Is  it  not 
one  of  the  chief  ends  of  logic  to  bring  our  ideas  into  consist- 
ency with  one  another  by  the  elimination  of  incompatibles  which 
enter,  I  am  persuaded,  far  more  largely  into  our  ordinary  trains 
of  thought  than  most  persons  are  aware  ?  Now,  when  the  sub- 
ject upon  which  we  speculate  is  so  large  and  embraces  so  much 
of  detail  as  the  universe,  would  it  be  strange  if  any  imagined 
improvement  of  ours  on  the  existing  constitution  of  things,  any 
modification  of  that  constitution  with  a  view  to  lessening  the 
evils  springing  incidentally  from  it,  —  would  it  be  strange,  I  say, 
if  such  imagined  improvement  should  include  incompatibles 
without  our  perceiving  them  ?  Would  it  be  strange  if,  in  carry- 
ing out  the  imagined  improvement,  practical  difficulties  should 
be  met  with  which  would  quite  defeat  the  end  proposed? — that 
instead  of  diminishing  the  e^dl,  the  change  should  increase  it 
at  the  expense  of  the  good?  Would  it  be  strange  if,  with  the 
ability  to  look  through  the  universe  and  comprehend  it  in  all  its 
parts  and  conditions,  we  should  discover  innate  difficulties  in  the 


DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS   THEISM.  131 

way  of  any  imagined  or  imaginable  improvements  beyond  the 
power  of  omnipotence  to  remove  ?  The  remarks  of  Bishop 
Butler  on  this  point  are  so  apposite  and  just  that  I  gladly  avail 
myself  of  them.  Notwithstanding  the  great  advance  that  has 
been  made  since  his  day  in  knowledge  of  the  physical  world, 
they  are  as  true  and  weighty  now  as  they  were  then. 

Suppose,  then,  a  person  boldly  to  assert  that  the  constitution  of  na- 
ture remaining  as  it  is,  the  things  complained  of,  the  origin  and  con- 
tinuance of  evil,  might  easily  have  been  prevented  by  repeated  interpo- 
sitions ,  —  interpositions  so  graduated  and  circumstanced  as  would  pre- 
clude all  mischief  arising  from  them ;  or  if  this  were  impracticable, 
that  a  scheme  of  government  is  itself  an  imperfection,  since  more 
good  might  have  been  produced  without  any  scheme,  system,  or  consti- 
tution at  all,  by  continued  single  unrelated  acts  of  distributive  justice 
and  goodness,  because  these  would  have  occasioned  no  irregularities ; 
and  further  than  this  it  is  presumed  the  objections  will  not  be  car- 
ried. .  .  .  Were  these  assertions  true,  yet  the  government  of  the  woi-ld 
might  be  just  and  good  notwithstanding ;  for,  at  most,  they  would  infer 
nothing  more  than  that  it  might  have  been  better.  But,  indeed,  they 
are  mere  arbitrary  assertions  ;  no  man  being  sufficiently  acquainted 
with  the  possibilities  of  things  to  bring  any  proof  of  them  to  the  lowest 
degree  of  probability.  For,  however  possible  what  is  asserted  may 
seem,  yet  there  are  many  instances,  in  things  much  less  out  of  reach,  of 
suppositions  absolutely  impossible  and  reducible  to  the  most  palpable 
self-contradictions,  which  not  every  one  by  any  means  could  perceive 
to  be  such,  nor,  perhaps,  any  one  at  first  sight  suspect.  From  these 
things  it  is  easy  to  see  distinctly  how  our  ignorance,  as  it  is  the  com- 
mon, is  really  a  satisfactory  answer  to  all  objections  against  the  justice 
and  goodness  of  Providence.  .  .  .  There  would,  indeed,  be  reason  to 
wish  —  which,  by  the  way,  is  very  different  from  their  right  to  claim 
—  that  all  irregularities  were  prevented  or  remedied  by  present  inter- 
positions, if  these  interpositions  would  have  no  other  effect  than  this. 


132  DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS   THEISM. 

But  it  is  plain  they  would  have  some  visible  and  immediate  bad  effects. 
For  instance,  they  would  encourage  idleness  and  negligence,  and  they 
would  render  doubtful  the  natural  rule  of  life,  which  is  ascertained  by 
this  very  thing,  that  the  course  of  the  world  is  carried  on  by  general 
laws.  .  .  .  Upon  the  whole,  then,  we  see  wise  reasons  why  the  course  of 
the  world  should  be  carried  on  by  general  laws,  and  good  ends  accom- 
plished by  this  means  ;  and,  for  aught  we  know,  there  may  be  the  wis- 
est and  best  reasons  for  it  and  the  best  ends  accomplished  by  it.  We 
have  no  ground  to  believe  that  all  irregularities  could  be  remedied  as 
they  arise,  or  could  have  been  precluded  by  general  laws.  We  find 
that  interpositions  would  produce  evil  and  prevent  good ;  and,  for 
aught  we  know,  they  would  produce  greater  evil  than  they  would  pre- 
vent, and  prevent  greater  good  than  they  would  produce. 

I  will  only  add  to  these  acute  remarks  of  Bishop  Butler  that 
the  government  of  the  world  by  general  laws,  out  of  which  the 
good  and  the  evil  alike  spring,  —  the  good  directly,  and  the  evil 
indirectly,  —  may  have  relation  not  solely  to  the  ends  in  view, 
but  also  to  the  divine  nature.  One  mode  of  government  may 
be  more  in  consonance  with  that  nature  than  the  other.  I  sug- 
gest this  merely  as  a  thing  possible.  I  see  nothing  tending 
either  to  prove  or  to  disprove  it.  The  fact  that  God  has  chosen 
one  method  rather  than  the  other  is  equally  well  accounted  for 
by  supposing  it  more  congenial  to  His  own  nature,  or  better  fit- 
ted to  secure  the  ends  sought.  It  is  not  improbable  that  both 
considerations  had  part  in  determining  the  choice. 

But  if  so  much  of  evil  is  necessarily  incident  to  existence 
under  conditions  the  most  favorable  that  could  be  devised, 
does  not  the  fact  bring  into  question  the  wisdom  and  benevo- 
lence of  creation  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  if  the  world  had 
never  been  made?  Such  seems  to  be  the  opinion  of  John 
Stuart  Mill.     In  an  essay  on  theism,  the  last  considerable  work 


DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS   THEISM.  133 

which  he  completed,  and  given  to  the  public  since  his  death, 
after  admitting  that  the  indications  of  design  in  nature  afford 
some  slight  probability  of  an  Intelligent  Author,  he  proceeds 
to  say :  — 

If  the  motive  of  the  Deity  for  creating  sentient  beings  was  the 
happiness  of  the  beings  He  created,  his  purpose,  in  our  corner  of  the 
universe  at  least,  must  be  pronounced,  taking  past  ages  and  all  coun- 
tries and  races  into  account,  to  have  been  thus  far  an  ignominious  fail- 
ure ;  and  if  God  had  no  purpose  but  our  happiness  and  that  of  other 
living  creatures,  it  is  not  credible  that  He  would  have  called  them  into 
existence  with  the  prospect  of  being  so  completely  baffled.  If  man  had 
not  the  power,  by  the  exercise  of  his  own  energies,  for  the  improvement 
both  of  himself  and  of  his  outward  circumstances,  to  do  for  himself 
and  other  creatures  vastly  more  than  God  had  in  the  first  instance 
done,  the  Being  who  called  him  into  existence  would  deserve  something 
very  different  from  thanks  at  his  hands. 

It  is  not  a  little  remarkable  that  a  man  so  acute  as  Mr.  Mill 
should  take  for  granted  that  to  an  omnipotent  Being  there  can 
be  neither  impossibilities  nor  incompatibilities ;  that  everything 
proceeding  from  such  a  Being  must  be  in  exact  accordance  with 
His  will  and  an  immediate  expression  of  that  will.  This  as- 
sumption runs  through  the  entire  argument  of  the  essay,  and 
determines  beforehand  its  conclusions.  In  the  close  of  his  chap- 
ter on  the  divine  attributes  he  says :  — 

These,  then,  are  the  net  results  of  natural  theology.  A  Being  of 
great  but  limited  power,  how  or  by  what  limited  we  cannot  conjecture ; 
of  great  and  perhaps  unlimited  intelligence,  but  perhaps,  also,  more 
narrowly  limited  than  his  power ;  who  desires  and  pays  some  attention 
to  the  happiness  of  His  creatures,  but  who  seems  to  have  other  motives 
of  action  which  He  cares  more  for,  and  who  can  hardly  be  supposed  to 
have  created  the  universe  for  that  purpose  alone,  —  such  is  the  Deity 


134    .  DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS   THEISM. 

whom  natural  religion  points  to,  and  any  idea  of  God  more  captivating 
than  this  comes  only  from  human  wishes  or  from  the  teaching  of  real 
or  imaginary  revelation. 

But  to  return  to  our  question  :  If  existence  be  necessarily 
attended  by  so  many  liabilities  to  suffering,  should  it  not  be 
regarded  as  in  itself  an  evil,  and  should  not  escape  from  it,  as 
taught  by  the  Buddhists,  be  sought  as  the  highest  good  ? 

I  do  not  think  a  fair  survey  of  life,  mixed  as  are  its  condi- 
tions, tends  to  such  a  conclusion.  Notwithstanding  the  consid- 
erable amount  of  evil,  there  is  a  large  overplus  of  good  with 
man  as  well  as  with  the  animal  tribes  below  him ;  happiness 
is  the  perpetual  sunshine  of  existence,  while  suffering  is  the 
occasional  and  passing  cloud.  The  love  of  life,  so  strong  in 
everything  that  breathes,  is  the  love  of  its  continued  flow  of 
enjoyments,  and  attests  in  the  strongest  manner  possible  their 
reality  and  sweetness.  The  words  of  Tennyson  are  as  full  of 
truth  as  they  are  of  poetical  feeling  :  — 

"  Whatever  crazy  sorrow  saith, 
No  life  that  breathes  with  human  breath 
Has  ever  truly  longed  for  death. 

*'  'T  is  life,  whereof  our  nerves  are  scant, 
O  life,  not  death,  for  which  we  pant ; 
More  life,  and  fuller,  that  I  want." 

There  is  the  same  preponderance  of  good  over  evil  in  the 
moral  world  as  in  the  natural.  In  every  well-conditioned  com- 
munity, although  vice  may  exist,  there  is  a  large  excess  of  the 
virtues.  Instances  of  chicanery,  fraud,  and  evil  doing  may  oc- 
cur, but  they  are  exceptional ;  while  justice,  integrity,  and  fair 
dealing  are  the  rule.  Crime  by  its  comparative  rareness  as  well 
as  by  its  enormity  makes  an  impression  upon  the  imagination 


DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS  THEISM.  135 

quite  disproportioned  to  its  actual  place  in  society.  The  virtues 
escape  our  notice  from  their  commonness.  The  benevolent  and 
social  affections  as  well  as  the  social  charities  of  home  are  every- 
where. We  meet  with  a  hundred  kindnesses  where  we  receive 
one  injury.  Such  is  the  experience  of  the  traveler  in  all  lands, 
civilized  and  savage ;  under  all  faiths,  Christian,  Mahometan, 
and  pagan.  Man  is  not  the  degraded  being  we  are  apt  to 
suppose  him.  To  no  work  of  the  Creator  is  injustice  so  often 
done  as  to  human  nature ;  and  the  most  remarkable  thing  is 
that  God  is  supposed  to  be  honored,  instead  of  being  profaned, 
by  its  depreciation.  Were  man  in  reality  what  he  is  some- 
times represented,  and  were  the  world  such  as  it  is  not  unfre- 
quently  pictured,  they  might  well  be  a  cause  for  repentance  on 
the  part  of  Him  who  made  them. 

Permit  me  in  conclusion  to  refer  briefly  to  the  last  case  men- 
tioned, that  of  incidental  evils,  after  reduction  as  far  as  possible 
by  preventive  and  remedial  agencies,  being  made  subservient  to 
ends  outside  of  the  special  provisions  from  which  they  spring. 
Instances  of  this  are  very  numerous,  and  especially  illustrate  the 
wise  and  beneficent  ordering  of  Providence.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
species  of  physical  evil  that  may  not,  and  if  allowed  to  have 
its  proper  and  intended  effect  does  not,  become  either  to  the 
sufferer  himself,  or  to  others,  or  to  both  himself  and  others,  a 
source  of  moral  benefit.  Misfortunes,  disappointments,  trials, 
sickness,  and  sorrow,  —  these  are  the  discipliners  of  humanity. 
Out  of  the  midst  of  them  are  reared  the  noblest  virtues.  It  is 
their  prevalence,  mingled  with  moral  evil  and  to  a  greater  or 
less  extent  caused  by  it,  that  makes  the  world  so  fit  a  theatre 
for  man's  probation.  Without  them  it  might  be  a  scene  of  in- 
nocent enjoyment,  but  it  would  be  no  place  for  building  up 


136  DIFFICULTIES    WHICH  PRESS    THEISM. 


lofty  and  heroic  character.  Even  death,  the  king  of  terrors,  con- 
sidered with  reference  to  this  world  only,  is  not  an  unmixed  evil. 
It  is  the  great  equalizer  of  the  diversities  of  human  fortune.  It 
at  the  same  time  reconciles  the  poor  man  to  his  poverty,  and 
makes  the  rich  feel  of  how  little  value  is  his  wealth.  It  chastens 
aspiration,  moderates  desire,  subdues  selfishness,  quickens  benev- 
olence, strengthens  duty,  and  disposes  to  the  exercise  of  every 
Christian  virtue.  It  is  the  moral  ballast  of  society.  But  for  its 
restraining  and  steadying  effect,  the  noblest  human  institutions, 
freighted  with  the  hopes  of  the  race,  would  quickly  be  dashed 
to  pieces  on  the  rocks  of  interest,  or  whelmed  beneath  the  bil- 
lows of  passion. 

These  evils,  inseparable  from  man's  bodily  structure  and 
earthly  condition,  are  by  a  divine  alchemy  converted  into  goods 
and  become  tributary  to  the  higher  ends  of  his  moral  being.  The 
more  elementary  constitution  of  the  lower  orders  of  the  animal 
creation  renders  such  conversion  in  their  case  impossible.  The 
evils  incident  to  their  existence  as  organized  beings  are  attended 
by  no  alleviations,  and  result  in  no  good  to  them.  The  actual 
benefits  experienced  by  man  from  this  provision  of  his  higher 
and  more  complex  nature  will  depend  much  upon  his  own  con- 
duct. Hence  the  proper  question,  in  regard  to  this  entire  class 
of  evils  where  they  arise  is  not,  Why  God  has  sent  them  ?  which 
would  be  natural  and  right  if  they  were  directly  purposed  by 
Him ;  but  another,  very  different  and  far  more  important  ques- 
tion. How  God  would  have  us  behave,  under  them  ?  with  what 
temper  meet  them,  and  what  lesson  learn  from  them  ?  It  is 
hardly  necessary  to  add,  that  if  they  are  seen  on  examination  to 
have  proceeded  from  causes  within  our  control,  our  first  busi- 
ness is  to  remove  such  causes. 


DIFFICULTIES   WHICH  PRESS   THEISM. 


137 


Finally,  to  recapitulate,  we  have  seen  that  the  evils  complained 
of,  where  existence  is  thought  to  imply  imperfection  in  the  di- 
vine goodness  or  limitation  of  the  divine  power,  are  incidental 
only  and  not  the  object  of  contrivance  and  design ;  that  they 
grow  out  of  provisions  in  man's  constitution  looking  solely  to 
beneficial  ends ;  that  by  no  conceivable  modification  of  that  con- 
stitution could  their  possibility  be  excluded  and  these  ends  at 
the  same  time  secured ;  that  inability  to  reconcile  incompatibles 
and  cause  them  to  coexist  implies  in  no  proper  sense  limitation 
of  power  ;  that  the  evils  incident  to  man's  earthly  condition  are 
reduced  as  far  as  possible  by  inventive  and  remedial  devices; 
and  that  after  this  reduction  such  as  still  remain  are  made  sub- 
servient to  the  higher  ends  of  his  existence  as  a  moral  and  ac- 
countable being.  How  appropriate,  with  a  larger  application, 
the  question  put  through  the  mouth  of  the  prophet :  "  What 
could  have  been  done  more  for  my  vineyard  that  I  have  not 
done  in  it  ?  " 


THE  RELATION   OF   GOD  TO   THE  NATURAL  AND 
MORAL  WORLDS. 


LECTUEE  IV. 

On  subjects  which  do  not  admit  of  positive  knowledge  we 
are  obliged  to  content  ourselves  with  probabilities.  These 
may  be  of  a  higher  or  lower  order  according  to  the  nature  of 
the  facts  or  analogies  upon  which  they  rest.  They  may  amount 
to  hardly  more  than  a  possibility,  or  they  may  rise  to  a  presump- 
tion that  is  little  short  of  certainty.  The  relation  of  God  to  the 
natural  world  is  one  of  these  subjects.  We  can  only  form  opin- 
ions concerning  it ;  and  one  man  has  just  as  good  a  right  to 
his  opinion,  if  it  is  honestly  and  reverently  formed,  as  another. 
That  view  of  the  relation  which  seems  to  any  one  most  worthy 
of  the  divine  character,  and  which  stirs  within  him  the  deepest 
feelings  of  reverence,  provided  it  be  in  harmony  with  all  the 
known  facts,  is  for  him  the  best  view ;  and  I  would  not  seek  to 
change  it.  But  while  saying  this  with  all  frankness,  I  should  be 
untrue  to  my  convictions  if  I  did  not  express  the  belief  that 
there  is  valid  ground  for  choice  among  the  opinions  held  upon 
the  subject,  whether  considered  with  reference  to  their  prob- 
able truth,  or  judged  of  by  the  influence  which  they  are  fitted 
to  exert.  Let  us  pass  in  review  some  of  the  most  common  of 
them,  and  see,  if  we  can,  which  has  the  most  to  commend  it. 
We  will  begin  with  that  which  is  the  oldest  and  has  prevailed 


THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL   WORLDS.  139 

the  most  widely.  It  supposes  matter  to  be  eternal.  Under  this 
hypothesis  two  views  of  God's  relation  to  it  are  possible,  and 
have  actually  obtained  to  a  large  extent  among  philosophers. 
One  supposes  matter  to  be  not  only  coeval  with  God  but  in  cor- 
relation with  Him.  Matter  is  the  outward  form.  God  is  the 
indwelling  spirit.  As  in  man,  the  body  obeys  the  soul ;  so, 
throughout  nature,  matter  yields  obedience  to  the  divine  will. 
God  is  the  anima  mundi,  the  soul  of  the  universe.  All  its  move- 
ments are  immediately  dependent  upon  His  volitions.  The  other 
view  supposes  matter  to  be  only  the  plastic  material  upon  which 
God  works.  In  shaping  it  to  His  purposes  He  avails  Himself  of 
its  natural  qualities.  He  selects  the  particular  kind  or  kinds  of 
matter  which  are  best,  and  employs  them  just  as  any  other  being 
of  adequate  intelligence  would  employ  them.  The  structures 
of  plants  and  animals  are  appealed  to  in  support  of  this  view. 
In  building  up  these,  it  is  said,  matter  is  used  by  the  Creator 
as  if  it  already  existed,  and  was,  so  to  speak,  furnished  to  His 
hands.  It  is  taken  just  as  it  is.  Its  properties  are  made  use 
of  but  not  modified.  Even  when  the  most  complex  arrange- 
ments and  combinations  are  necessary  to  attain  a  proposed  end 
in  accordance  with  its  laws,  those  laws  are  not  changed,  but 
the  combinations  and  arrangements  are  uniformly  resorted  to. 
In  a  word,  matter  is  employed  by  God  in  the  same  manner  as 
we  ourselves,  with  the  requisite  power  and  skill,  should  employ 
it  for  like  purposes.  Granting  all  this,  as  I  think  we  may,  does 
it  prove  or  tend  to  prove  that  matter  was  not  originally  created 
by  God?  Does  it  in  reality  afford  any  ground  for  such  an 
opinion  ?  I  cannot  see  that  it  does.  We  should  naturally  ex- 
pect that,  having  formed  matter  and  endowed  it  with  properties, 
He  would  employ  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  those  properties 


140  THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL  WORLDS. 

available  to  the  purposes  of  creation.  Any  alteration  of  them, 
the  resort  in  any  emergency  to  new  elements  or  new  properties, 
would  imply  either  defect  in  the  constitution  of  matter  or  want 
of  skill  in  employing  it.  We  can,  therefore,  gain  no  light  con- 
cerning its  origin,  from  the  way  in  which  it  is  used. 

The  vast  scale  upon  which  matter  exists,  the  sublime  ends  to 
which  it  ministers,  as  well  as  the  ceaseless  round  of  changes 
through  which  it  is  constantly  passing  without  itself  undergoing 
change  or  diminution,  naturally  impress  the  mind  with  the  idea 
of  permanence,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  those  who  derived 
their  light  solely  from  nature  should  have  generally  believed  it 
to  be  eternal.  Such  appears  to  have  been  the  opinion  of  the 
ancient  Egyptian  philosophers.  They  were  accustomed  to  trace 
the  world  back  through  a  series  of  transformations  to  an  orig- 
inal chaos,  in  which  the  materials  composing  it  already  existed, 
though  enveloped  in  profound  darkness,  and  without  relation, 
order,  or  end.  In  this  state  they  believed  matter  to  be  coeval 
with  God,  and  limited  the  work  of  creation  to  educing  from 
its  chaotic  elements  the  beauty,  order,  and  harmony  of  the  uni- 
verse. How  like  is  this  to  some  of  the  theories  put  forth  at  the 
present  day  by  acknowledged  authorities  in  science,  except  that 
in  the  modern  teaching  God  is  left  out.  These  cosmological 
ideas,  although  originating  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  like  many 
other  of  the  Egyptian  doctrines,  passed  over  to  Greece  and 
Italy,  where  they  were  incorporated,  with  slight  alterations,  into 
the  prevailing  mythological  and  philosophical  systems.  The 
highest  conception  of  Deity,  which  seems  to  have  been  formed 
on  either  side  of  the  Mediterranean,  was  that  of  a  power  in- 
timately pervading  all  matter,  and  continually  evolving  from 
it  life,  motion,  order,  and  beauty.     For  the  sublime  idea  of  a 


THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL  WORLDS.  141 

Being  who  was  able,  by  the  simple  exertion  o£  His  power,  to 
give  existence  to  matter,  who  "  spake  and  it  was,"  who  "  com- 
manded and  it  stood  fast,"  who  said  :  "  Let  there  be  light :  and 
there  was  light,"  we  are  indebted  to  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 
Dictated  originally  by  inspiration,  the  idea  has  come  down  to  us 
through  the  channel  of  these  writings,  along  with  other  con- 
ceptions of  the  divine  character,  as  far  surpassing  in  grandeur 
anything  we  find  in  heathen  mythologies. 

What  led  the  ancients  so  very  generally  to  regard  matter  as 
self-existent  and  eternal,  was,  no  doubt,  their  inability  to  con- 
ceive of  it  as  coming  into  existence.  They  could  in  imagina- 
tion carry  its  existence  forwards  or  backwards  indefinitely,  but 
they  could  not  think  of  it  either  as  beginning  to  exist,  or  as 
ceasing  to  exist.  For  a  like  reason  many  moderns  have  found 
difficulty  in  admitting  the  absolute  creation  of  matter.  Some  of 
the  best  thinkers  of  the  age  believe  that  it  must  always  have 
existed  either  actually  or  potentially.  Sir  William  Hamilton 
thinks  the  causal  judgment  requires  this.  "  Creation,"  he  says, 
"  is  conceived,  and  by  us  conceivable,  merely  as  the  evolution  of 
a  new  form  of  existence  by  the  fiat  of  Deity."  "  Let  us  sup- 
pose the  very  crisis  of  creation.  Can  we  realize  it  to  ourselves, 
in  thought,  that  the  moment  after  the  universe  came  into  mani- 
fested being  there  was  a  larger  complement  of  existence,  in  the 
universe  and  its  Author  together,  than  there  was  the  moment 
before  in  the  Deity  Himself  alone  ?  "  "  All  that  there  is  now, 
actually,  of  existence  in  the  universe,  we  conceive  as  having  vir- 
tually existed,  prior  to  creation,  in  the  Creator ;  and  in  imag- 
ining the  universe  to  be  annihilated  by  its  Author,  we  can  only 
imagine  this  as  a  retraction  of  an  outward  energy  into  power." 
Such  is  Sir  William's  view  of  creation.     Although  not  disposed 


142  THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL  WORLDS. 

to  question  its  adequacy,  I  am  by  no  means  sure  that  it  is  all 
that  the  principle  of  causality,  properly  understood,  allows. 
With  his  derivation  and  interpretation  of  that  principle,  he 
could  not  consistently  go  further. 

Another  consideration,  which  seems  to  have  had  weight  with 
the  ancients  in  assigning  to  matter  an  independent  existence,  is 
the  supposed  facility  offered  by  it  for  explaining,  consistently 
with  the  divine  perfections,  the  origin,  and  continuance  in  the 
world,  of  evil.  This  they  attributed  to  the  refractoriness  of 
matter,  to  its  imperfect  obedience  of  the  will  of  God,  or  to  its 
want  of  entire  plasticity  under  His  hand,  according  to  the  one  or 
other  view  taken  of  its  relation  to  Him.  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  say  that  an  equally  satisfactory  solution  of  what  is  confessedly 
one  of  the  most  difficult  of  problems  is  found  in  the  govern- 
ment of  the  world  by  general  laws,  which,  however  wisely  ar- 
ranged, would  seem  to  be  inadequate  to  meet  and  provide  for 
all  individual  cases  arising  under  them. 

A  second  theory  of  the  relation  of  God  to  the  universe,  which 
with  the  first  has  substantially  divided  the  world,  goes  to  the 
opposite  extreme.  It  denies  to  matter  an  existence  separate  and 
distinct  from  that  of  Deity.  The  universe  is  God  acting.  It  is 
evolved  by  the  ceaseless  exertion  of  His  power.  It  is  a  perpetual 
creation.  It  is  the  continuous  product  of  the  volitions  of  Deity. 
The  universe,  thus  emerging  from  the  bosom  of  God,  may  be 
conceived  to  embrace  matter  as  commonly  understood,  with  its 
inhering  forces,  or  to  include  only  the  forces  without  the  mat- 
ter, or  to  be  limited  to  the  mere  outward  phenomena  without 
either  matter  or  forces  back  of  them,  or  finally  to  be  restricted 
to  ideas  in  the  mind,  directly  awakened  without  material  ante- 
cedents. 


THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL   WORLDS.  143 

On  the  first  supposition  we  have  theistic  realism,  on  the  sec- 
ond theistic  dynamism,  on  the  third  theistic  phenomenalism, 
and  on  the  fourth  theistic  idealism ;  or,  to  express  the  same 
thing  in  a  different  way,  the  first  hypothesis  gives  us  a  universe 
of  matter  supported  each  moment  through  all  its  parts  by  the 
direct  volitions  of  Deity ;  the  second,  a  universe  of  forces  sus- 
tained in  like  manner  by  the  immediate  local  and  voluntary 
exertions  of  the  divine  power ;  the  third,  a  universe  of  ap- 
pearances similarly  maintained  ;  the  fourth,  a  universe  of  ideas 
immediately  created  by  God  in  the  mind  of  the  percipient.  All 
of  these  different  views  of  the  relation  of  Deity  to  the  universe 
have  been  more  or  less  extensively  entertained,  and  some  of 
them  have  found  supporters  among  the  best  thinkers  of  the 
race.  However  widely  they  differ  among  themselves,  they  all 
agree  in  this,  that  they  refer  the  universe,  whatever  it  may  be, 
whether  real,  or  virtual,  or  phenomenal,  or  ideal,  to  the  imme- 
diate volitions  of  Deity.  They  suppose  it  to  be,  through  all 
its  parts,  and  in  all  its  activities,  the  expression,  representative, 
and  product  of  those  volitions. 

The  considerations  urged  in  favor  of  this  theory  are,  first, 
that  will-power  is  the  only  kind  of  power  of  which  we  have  any 
knowledge,  or  of  which  we  can  form  any  conception.  Secondly, 
that  this  theory  of  the  universe  converts  it  from  an  inflexible 
machine  into  a  pliant  instrument  in  the  hands  of  God,  adapted 
to  the  ends  of  His  moral  government. 

The  first  consideration  will,  I  think,  be  seen,  on  reflection,  to 
have  little  weight.  It  is  true  that  will-power  is  the  only  kind 
of  power  which  we  know  by  consciousness,  for  the  good  reason 
that  it  is  the  only  kind  of  power  that  we  consciously  exert.  But 
have  we  not  evidence  of  the  exertion  of  power  outside  of  our^ 


144  THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL  WORLDS. 

selves  ?  Do  we  not  witness  its  effects  ?  Are  they  not  continu- 
ally before  us  ?  Do  we  doubt  their  reality,  or  the  reality  of  the 
cause  producing  them  ?  And  is  there  anything  clearer  or  more 
familiar  to  us  than  the  distinction  between  voluntary  and  invol- 
untary power  ?  between  the  power  of  a  man  or  a  horse,  and 
wind-power,  or  \^'ater-power,  or  steam-power  ?  Are  we  in  any 
danger  of  confounding  in  thought,  or  of  mistaking  in  reality, 
these  two  kinds  of  power  ?  Are  not  the  laws  of  their  manifes- 
tation different  ?  Is  not  one  brought  into  exercise  by  the  presen- 
tation of  motive,  and  the  other  determined  to  action  by  the  sup- 
ply of  physical  conditions  ?  In  their  varied  exhibitions  around 
us,  do  we  not  distinguish  them  as  readily  as  we  distinguish 
light  from  darkness  ?  Is  it  quite  just,  then,  to  say  that  will- 
power is  the  only  power  of  which  we  have  any  knowledge  ? 

But  what  is  will-power  ?  How  much  and  what  does  it  in- 
clude ?  Is  the  force  of  the  blow  dealt  by  a  strong  arm  will- 
power ?  Does  will-power  extend  beyond  the  mere  act  of  voli- 
tion ?  The  arm  is  paralyzed.  The  act  of  volition  is  performed 
as  before.  But  does  the  arm  move  ?  Does  the  act  of  volition 
in  any  case  do  more  than  liberate  and  give  direction  to  material 
forces  already  stored  in  brain  and  muscle  ?  more  than  touch  the 
key  of  the  telegraph  ?  or  hoist  the  gate  of  the  water-mill  ?  or 
open  the  valve  of  the  steam-engine  ?  or  apply  the  match  to  the 
loaded  cannon  ?  Is  power  of  body  or  limb  exerted  in  obedience 
to  the  will,  in  any  proper  sense,  will-power  ?  any  more  than  the 
flash  of  electricity  along  the  telegraph  wire,  or  the  thrust  of 
the  piston,  or  the  strain  of  the  wheel,  or  the  force  of  the  ex- 
ploding cannon,  is  man-power  ? 

Yet  further.  Are  all  our  actions  voluntary  ?  Are  not  the 
larger  part  of  them  performed  without  conscious  effort?    Is 


THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL    WORLDS.  145 

any  one  of  our  faculties  of  much  use  to  us  till  it  has  been 
trained  by  habit  to  what  closely  resembles  automatic  action  ? 
Is  our  best  work  ever  done  under  the  flagellations  of  the  will  ? 
Does  not  the  mind,  when  most  active,  quite  ignore  our  power 
over  it  ?  Do  we  not  apply  the  brake  in  vain  ?  Does  not  the 
train  of  thought  still  move  on  in  spite  of  our  effort  to  stop  it  ? 
If  volition,  then,  has  so  small  a  part  in  any  of  our  actions, 
and  if  in  the  performance  of  the  greater  number  of  them  it 
does  not  consciously  intervene,  surely  our  own  experience  can 
afford  but  a  slender  basis  for  the  generalization  of  wiU-power 
over  the  whole  universe. 

Nor  is  the  other  consideration  presented  in  favor  of  this  of 
more  weight.  The  inflexible  character  of  physical  events  is  due 
solely  to  the  unvarying  order  of  their  occurrence.  Tliis  order, 
which  we  learn  from  experience,  remains  the  same,  whether  we 
suppose  them  to  depend  immediately  upon  the  volitions  of  God, 
or  to  grow  out  of  the  constitution  of  things  which  He  has  estab- 
lished. Nor  is  there  any  more  difficulty  in  supposing  Him,  for 
wise  reasons,  to  interpose  from  time  to  time  and  change  the 
order  of  events  on  one  theory  than  on  the  other.  No  additional 
facilities  are  offered  for  the  administration  of  either  the  moral 
or  the  providential  government  of  the  world  by  supposing  aU 
physical  events  to  be  immediately  dependent  upon  the  divine 
wiU. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  argument  for  an  Intelligent  Author 
of  nature  is  greatly  weakened,  if  not  wholly  destroyed,  by  such 
a  supposition.  It  does  away  entirely  with  the  idea  of  second 
causes  in  the  physical  world,  and  with  that,  equally,  the  idea  of 
devices,  contrivances,  instrumentalities,  means,  ends,  and  inci- 
dents, all  of  which  presuppose  second  causes,  and  are  impossible 


146  THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL   WORLDS. 

without  them.  The  immediate  dependence  of  material  changes 
upon  the  divine  will  precludes  their  dependence  upon  one  an- 
other. Their  occurrence  in  a  fixed  order  is  not  on  account  of 
any  connection  between  them.  They  arise  each  one  by  itself, 
in  perfect  isolation,  and  hold  to  one  another  only  a  serial  rela- 
tion. The  tie  between  them  must  be  in  the  divine  nature,  from 
which  they  are  supposed  to  proceed  directly,  subject  in  their 
appearance,  as  we  know,  to  fixed  laws ;  that  nature  in  evoking 
them  must  act  in  obedience  to  these  laws,  and  not  for  the 
attainment  of  material  ends,  the  very  idea  of  which  is  excluded 
by  our  theory.  The  originating  cause  of  all  things  is  thus 
placed  as  far  beyond  the  reach  of  our  faculties,  and  becomes  as 
inscrutable  to  us  as  Mr.  Spencer  and  men  of  his  school  would 
make  it.  The  immediate  reference  of  all  natural  events  to  the 
divine  will  in  reality  destroys  the  distinction  between  God  and 
nature,  and  makes  them  both  the  same  thing ;  makes  God  na- 
ture, or  makes  nature  God,  whichever  way  we  may  prefer  to  ex- 
press it.  We  have,  in  fact,  Tyndallism  and  Spencerism,  only 
reached  by  a  different  road. 

Permit  me  now  to  state  briefly  what  I  believe  to  be  the  best 
view  of  the  relation  of  God  to  the  universe ;  the  view  which  is 
most  philosophical,  as  I  think,  and  more  in  accordance  with  the 
teachings  of  Scripture  and  of  common  sense.  I  suppose  matter 
to  have  been  created  by  God.  I  suppose  it  to  have  a  real  and 
not  a  merely  phenomenal  existence.  I  suppose  the  energies 
manifested  by  it  to  be  inherent.  I  suppose  God  to  have  created 
it  for  wise  and  good  ends,  and  to  have  fitted  it  for  entering  into 
structural  devices  adapted  to  the  attainment  of  these  ends.  In 
accordance  with  this  view  of  its  constitution  and  purpose,  I  see 
around  me  a  whole  universe  of  such  devices  ;  and  it  is  from  the 


THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL    WORLDS.  147 

beneficent  ends  to  which  they  are  everywhere  ministering  that  I 
learn  the  character  of  their  Author.  These  innumerable  struc- 
tures, as  we  have  already  seen,  are  built  up  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  known  laws  of  matter.  Moreover,  their  sole  object  is 
the  utilization  of  material  properties  and  forces.  It  is  only  on 
the  supposition  that  matter  has  a  real  existence  and  possesses 
properties  that  it  can  be  employed  as  a  means  or  used  as  an 
instrument.  It  is  only  on  this  supposition  that  the  marvelous 
contrivance  making  up  so  large  a  part  of  the  structures  of  all 
animals  can  subserve  any  purpose,  or  have  any  significance,  or 
afford  any  ground  for  the  deductions  of  natural  theology. 

But  must  we  not  suppose  matter,  after  its  creation  by  God, 
to  be  still  dependent  upon  Him  ?  Undoubtedly :  to  such  an 
extent  that  He  can  at  any  moment  annihilate  it  as  readily  as  He 
brought  it  into  being ;  and  in  such  a  way  that  if  we  could  sup- 
pose His  existence  to  come  to  an  end,  the  existence  of  matter 
would  come  to  an  end  with  it.  But  is  not  a  constant  exertion 
of  the  divine  power  necessary  to  sustain  matter  in  being  ?  I  do 
not  know.  I  see  no  good  reason,  however,  for  supposing  it.  If 
the  act  of  creation  was  cotaplete,  why  should  further  effort  be 
required  on  the  part  of  the  Creator  ?  Why  should  the  contin- 
ued exertion  of  His  power  be  necessary  to  keep  in  being  what 
He  has  made,  more  than  to  keep  Himself  in  being?  According 
to  Sir  William  Hamilton's  view  of  creation,  which  is,  perhaps, 
as  intelligible  as  any  that  has  been  suggested,  the  universe,  be- 
fore it  came  into  manifested  being,  was  virtually  included  in  the 
divine  essence.  Why  should  it  require  support  more  than  that 
essence  ?  Is  it  objected  that  such  an  idea  would  leave  the 
Infinite  One,  after  having  finished  the  work  of  creation,  without 
further  occupation  ?     Do  we  know  that  the  work  of  creation  is 


148  THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL   WORLDS. 

finished  ?  Is  not  space  large  enough  to  receive  continually  new 
creations  from  the  hand  of  the  Almighty  ?  Do  not  astronomers 
discover  indications  of  such  new  creations  ?  Does  not  the  tele- 
scope reveal  the  existence,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  visible  uni- 
verse, of  mighty  expanses  of  vaporous  matter,  out  of  which 
worlds  and  systems  of  worlds  are  believed  to  be  forming?  May 
not  the  creation,  and  pouring  into  space,  of  material  for  new 
worlds,  together  with  the  moral  cast  of  those  which  He  has 
already  made  and  peopled,  be  supposed  a  fitting  and  sufficient 
occupation  ?  Would  it  add  to  the  dignity  or  grandeur  of  our 
conception  of  Him  to  suppose  that  besides  this  He  is  each  mo- 
ment holding  in  existence  every  atom  of  matter  in  the  universe  ? 

Having  presented  for  your  election  these  different  views  of 
God's  relation  to  the  natural  world,  I  will  venture  a  few  thoughts 
on  his  relation  to  the  moral  world.  I  will  premise  that  I  sup- 
pose the  natural  world  to  have  been  created  for  the  moral,  and 
in  subordination  to  it.  I  suppose  that  all  material  provisions,  of 
whatever  nature  or  wherever  found,  look  ultimately  to  the  wel- 
fare of  intelligent  and  sensitive  beings. 

But  is  it  certain  that  the  requirements  of  a  moral  and  provi- 
dential government  can  be  fully  answered  by  an  administration 
conducted  solely  by  general  laws?  May  not  emergencies  be 
supposed  to  arise  which  such  an  administration  would  be  inade- 
quate to  meet,  and  of  so  important  a  character  as  to  justify  spe- 
cial Divine  interpositions  ?  Such  emergencies  are  certainly  con- 
ceivable, and,  when  all  the  facts  are  considered,  would  seem  not 
unlikely  to  arise. 

Now,  in  case  of  their  actual  occurrence,  is  there  any  reason, 
in  the  known  constitution  of  things,  why  God  should  not  inter- 
pose, and  by  the  direct  exertion  of  His  power  secure  the  impor- 


THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL  WORLDS.  149 

tant  and  desired  ends  ?  No  reason  whatever.  Does  science 
reveal  any  difficulties  in  the  way  of  such  interposition  ?  None 
at  all ;  not  the  slightest  difficulty  ;  supposing  always  the  exist- 
ence of  a  personal  God,  distinct  from  nature,  and  not  a  mere 
nature  divinity.  But  has  not  modern  discovery,  by  extending 
the  reign  of  law,  increased  the  embarrassments  attending  the 
doctrine  of  miracles  and  of  special  providences  ?  Not  at  all. 
There  are  no  scientific  embarrassments  attending  these  doc- 
trines. Both  miracles  and  special  providences  suppose  the 
reign  of  law,  and  would  be  impossible  without  it.  There  can 
be  no  suspension  nor  modification  of  a  law,  unless  the  law  exist. 
The  whole  significance  of  a  miracle  depends  upon  its  manifest 
want  of  conformity  to  law.  Special  providences,  if  anything 
more  is  meant  by  them  than  God's  general  providence  in  its 
relation  to  individuals,  imply  equally  departure  from  law,  but 
under  circumstances  that  preclude  observation.  Special  provi- 
dences and  answers  to  prayer  come,  in  respect  to  this,  under  the 
same  category.  There  are  no  scientific  difficulties  lying  in  the 
way  of  either.  Our  knowledge  of  the  conditions  which  control 
the  ordinary  events  of  life  is  so  imperfect,  that  interpositions 
might  be  continually  taking  place  all  around  us  without  our 
being  in  a  single  instance  able  to  detect  them.  The  only 
question  concerning  them  is  a  question  of  fact.  Does  God  in 
reality  thus  intervene,  and  change  the  course  of  physical  events, 
in  furtherance  of  the  interests  of  his  moral  government  ?  The 
question  is  to  be  settled,  like  any  other  question  of  fact,  upon 
evidence.  There  are  no  a  priori  objections  to  be  met,  no  ante- 
cedent improbabilities  to  be  overcome.  The  proper  appeal,  and 
only  proper  appeal,  is,  first,  to  the  sacred  Scriptures.  For  those 
who  acknowledge  their  authority,  the  teachings  of  these  are  ul- 


150  THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL   WORLDS. 

timate  as  to  the  general  doctrine.  They  throw  no  light,  how- 
ever, upon  the  question  of  actual  interposition  in  any  given 
case.  The  probability  of  this  can  be  judged  of  only  from  the 
attendant  circumstances. 

Secondly.  To  experience.  This,  for  reasons  already  stated, 
can  at  most  furnish  but  presumptive  evidence.  As  the  suspen- 
sion of  law  or  departure  from  it  is  assumed  to  take  place  under 
circumstances  precluding  observation,  —  otherwise  it  would  be 
a  miracle,  and  not  a  special  providence,  —  it  is  alike  impossible 
either  to  prove  or  disprove  it.  Probability  is  the  most  that  can 
be  attained  in  either  direction.  Even  in  those  cases  where  the 
evidence  of  interposition  seems  clearest,  there  are  always  so  many 
unknown  elements  that  a  wise  man  will  be  cautious  in  forming, 
and  still  more  cautious  in  expressing,  an  opinion.  What  most 
strikes  one,  in  the  plan  proposed  by  Mr.  Tyndall  a  short  time 
since  for  testing  the  efficacy  of  prayer,  is  its  inadequacy,  in  a 
scientific  point  of  view.  No  man  knows  better  than  he  the  ne- 
cessity, in  conducting  a  chemical  investigation,  of  perfect  con- 
trol over  all  the  conditions  of  the  problem.  And  yet,  to  settle 
a  question  of  the  Divine  procedure  in  the  government  of  the 
world,  he  suggests  an  experiment  in  which  not  a  single  one  of 
the  conditions  determining  the  result  is  fully  known  or  con- 
trollable. 

But  while  the  doctrine  of  special  providences,  including  an- 
swers to  prayer,  has  nothing  to  fear  from  the  assaults  of  sci- 
ence, it  is  liable  to  have  dishonor  cast  upon  it  by  unwarrantable 
interpretations  of  God's  purposes  in  the  ordinary  events  of  life. 
In  fact,  the  readiness  with  which  many  good  men  discern  the 
ends  of  Providence  in  human  affairs  has  a  tendency  to  weaken 
confidence  in  final  causes  generally,  and  thus  to  unsettle  the 


THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL    WORLDS.  151 

foundation  of  all  religious  faith.  If,  instead  of  seeking  to  pene- 
trate the  purposes  of  God,  men  would  occupy  themselves  with 
endeavors  to  learn  His  will,  their  studies  would  be  more  fruitful 
of  both  wisdom  and  piety.  The  design  of  the  Scriptures,  so  far 
as  I  am  able  to  understand  them,  is  to  assure  us  of  God's  care, 
and  of  His  willingness  to  hear  our  prayers,  and  to  answer  them 
in  such  way  and  to  such  extent  as  He  may  see  best.  When 
these  teachings  are  pressed  further  than  this,  and  made  to  jus- 
tify special  interpretations  of  His  providence,  it  is  done,  as  it 
seems  to  me,  quite  without  warrant. 

It  should  be  further  remembered  that  frequent  interpositions 
in  respect  to  physical  events  may  not  be  necessary  for  securing 
the  ends  of  the  Divine  government.  As  the  manner  in  which 
these  events  affect  us  will  always  depend  much  upon  our  own 
and  other  men's  actions,  God  may  as  easily  turn  them  to  His 
purposes  by  touching  human  wills  as  by  changing  the  action  of 
natural  causes  and  intercepting  the  lines  of  antecedent  and  con- 
sequent in  the  outward  world.  Although  the  avalanche  pause 
not  in  its  precipitous  descent,  the  traveller  may  be  removed 
from  the  place  overwhelmed  by  it.  Although  the  tempest 
sweep  onward,  abating  not  a  jot  of  its  fury,  the  vessel  may  be 
turned  from  its  track,  and  reach  in  safety  the  desired  haven. 

The  attempt  is  sometimes  made  to  show  how  God  may  inter- 
vene in  human  affairs  without  suspension  of  natural  laws,  or  in- 
terruption of  the  orderly  flow  of  events.  In  endeavors  of  this 
sort  recourse  is  had  to  human  analogies.  These,  however,  fail 
to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  problem.  Moreover,  the  use 
that  is  made  of  them  often  discloses  a  painful  misconception  in 
regard  to  the  sources  of  material  phenomena.  Why  talk  of  the 
manipulation  of  laws,  or  of   an  arrangement  far  back  out  of 


152  THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL   WORLDS. 

human  sight,  for  changing  the  course  of  physical  events  similar 
to  that  by  which  the  direction  of  the  locomotive,  with  its  train 
of  cars,  is  changed  ?  Is  it  not  far  better  to  state  and  maintain, 
as  taught  by  the  Scriptures,  the  simple  doctrine  of  interposition, 
without  attempting  to  explain  the  mode  ?  Are  not  infinite  re- 
sources at  the  Divine  command  ?  May  not  God  as  easily  touch 
by  the  finger  of  His  power,  in  the  atoms  themselves,  the  source 
of  all  natural  phenomena  as  manipulate  laws,  whatever  we  are 
to  understand  by  the  expression  ?  If  it  is  meant  that  God  may 
employ  natural  agents  for  accomplishing  His  purposes  in  the 
same  manner  as  man  employs  them  for  the  accomplishment  of 
his  purposes,  namely,  by  means  of  appropriate  contrivances  such 
as  the  water-wheel,  the  windmill,  the  steam-engine,  and  the 
magnetic  telegraph,  does  this  tend  to  simplify,  or  in  any  man- 
ner facilitate  our  conception  of  the  Divine  interposition  ?  How 
much  better,  how  much  more  dignified,  how  much  safer  every 
way,  to  leave  the  doctrine  just  as  the  Scriptures  leave  it,  with- 
out an  attempt  at  explanation  !  Occupying  a  position  that  is 
impregnable,  it  needs  no  support  from  human  analogies. 

But  does  not  the  prevalence  of  law  in  the  natural  world,  it 
will  be  asked,  render  petitions  touching  physical  events  of 
doubtful  propriety  ?  Not  if  the  conditions  determining  them 
are  unknown  to  us.  Any  future  event  in  which  we,  or  our 
friends,  or  our  country,  or  the  world,  is  interested,  so  long  as 
the  will  of  God  concerning  it  is  unknown,  is,  I  think,  a  proper 
subject  for  prayer.  After  that  will  has  become  apparent,  we 
cease  to  pray.  Our  duty,  then,  is  submission.  Let  me  illus- 
trate. A  friend  is  sick.  Surely  it  is  proper  for  us  to  ask  God 
that  He  will  restore  him  to  health.  The  symptoms  increase  in 
gravity.     Not  knowing  the  will  of  God,  we  still  pray  for  his  re- 


THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL   WORLDS.  153 

covery.  At  length  a  stage  is  reached  in  the  disease  beyond 
which  recovery,  without  a  miracle,  is  impossible.  We  no  longer 
pray  for  his  restoration  to  health,  but  ask  that  he  may  be  pre- 
pared for  the  change  awaiting  him.  All  this  is  as  reasonable 
and  Christian  as  it  is  natural.  The  impulse  to  pray  springs 
from  a  sense  of  our  dependence,  and  its  propriety  under  given 
circumstances  depends  much  upon  the  state  of  our  knowledge. 
What,  indeed,  are  any  of  our  petitions  but  the  requests  of  weak- 
ness and  ignorance  preferred  to  an  Almighty  and  Omniscient  In- 
telligence ?  There  should  run  through  them  aU  the  refrain  of 
submission,  not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done. 

Take  another  illustration.  With  our  present  meteorological 
knowledge,  I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  propriety 
of  asking  God  for  the  genial  sunshine,  for  timely  rains,  and 
for  fruitful  seasons,  as  well  as  for  exemption  from  devastating 
storms  on  land  and  at  sea.  I  do  not  see  how  any  intelligent, 
thoughtful  man  can  question  either  the  suitableness  or  the  piety 
of  such  prayers.  They  are  as  right  as  they  are  natural.  Should 
the  conditions  determining  the  movements  of  the  atmosphere 
ever  be  brought  within  calculable  formulas,  so  that  the  phases 
of  the  sky  could  be  predicted  with  as  much  certainty  as  an 
eclipse  of  the  moon,  or  a  transit  of  Venus,  —  which  is  not  at 
all  probable,  —  then  our  relations  to  the  weather  would  be  en- 
tirely changed.  God  having  given  us  the  power  of  foreseeing 
atmospheric  changes,  it  would  be  but  reasonable  that  He  should 
require  us  to  accommodate  our  movements  to  them.  To  neglect 
doing  this,  and  then  ask  Him  to  work  a  miracle  for  us,  woidd 
be  an  act  of  presumption.  It  would  not  be  prayer,  but  a  tempt- 
ing of  God.  Warm  years  and  cold  years,  rainy  seasons  and  dry 
seasons,  winds  and  calms  and  floods  and  tempests,  being  as  cer- 


154  THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL   WORLDS. 

tainly  foreknown  by  us  as  the  alternations  of  day  and  night, 
or  the  orderly  succession  of  spring,  summer,  autumn,  and  win- 
ter, would  cease  to  be  subjects  for  prayer,  and  the  department  of 
nature  to  which  they  belong  would  no  longer  be  a  theatre  for 
special  providences.  It  is  not  the  certainty  of  any  future  event, 
nor  the  Divine  decree  in  regard  to  it,  but  our  knowledge  of  that 
certainty,  and  of  the  Divine  decree,  that  makes  petitions  con- 
cerning it  unallowable. 

The  thoughts  which  I  have  ventured  to  offer  on  the  relation 
of  God  to  the  natural  and  moral  worlds  are  :  That  matter  was 
in  the  beginning  created  by  God. 

That  it  has  a  real  existence,  and  possesses  inherent  energies. 

That  it  is  dependent  upon  God  to  such  an  extent  that  He  can 
at  any  moment  annihilate  it ;  and  in  such  a  way  that,  could  we 
suppose  His  existence  ever  to  come  to  an  end,  the  existence  of 
matter  would  come  to  an  end  with  it. 

That  there  is  no  sufficient  reason  for  supposing  matter  to  be 
dependent  for  its  continued  existence  or  for  its  powers  upon  the 
immediate  and  ceaseless  volitions  of  Deity. 

That  matter  is  used  by  God  as  an  instrument,  and  always  in 
strict  accordance  with  its  properties. 

That  it  is  from  the  innumerable  devices  resorted  to,  for  mak- 
ing these  properties  available  for  special  ends,  that  we  gain  a 
knowledge  of  the  divine  existence  and  character ;  or,  in  other 
words,  God,  the  great  first  cause,  reveals  to  us  His  being  and 
attributes  through  the  use  which  He  makes  of  second  causes  in 
accomplishing  His  beneficent  purposes.  But  for  such  use  of 
second  causes  we  should  have  no  evidence  of  a  powerful  and  in- 
telligent existence  back  of  them.  They  would  be  to  us  ultimate 
causes. 


THE  NATURAL  AND  MORAL   WORLDS.  155 

That  there  is  no  reason  in  the  known  constitution  of  things 
why  God,  in  the  administration  of  His  moral  government,  should 
not  secure,  by  the  direct  exertion  of  His  power,  important  ends 
not  otherwise  provided  for. 

That  science  reveals  no  difficulties  in  the  way  of  such  inter- 
positions. 

That  when  manifest  and  addressing  the  senses,  we  call  them 
miracles ;  when  hidden  from  our  sight,  special  providences. 

That  whether  such  interpositions  ever  have  occurred,  or  do 
now  occur,  is  simply  a  question  of  fact,  to  be  settled  on  evidence. 
Science  has  nothing  to  do  with  it. 

That  what  the  doctrine  of  interpositions,  whether  miraculous 
or  otherwise,  has  most  to  fear  from  is  the  want  of  boldness  and 
consistency  in  its  maintenance.     And,  finally. 

That  any  future  event  in  which  we  are  interested,  so  long  as 
the  will  of  God  concerning  it  is  unknown  to  us,  is  a  proper  sub- 
ject for  prayer. 


COLLATERAL  PROOFS   OF   THE  ARGUMENT   FROM 

DESIGN. 


LECTURE  V. 

We  have  seen  thus  far  in  the  course  of  our  inquiry  that 
the  physical  world  is  written  all  over  with  the  evidences  of  in- 
telligence and  design ;  that  these  do  not  appear  only  in  the 
structure  and  endowments  of  organized  beings,  but  are  still 
more  strikingly  exhibited  in  the  delicate  adjustments  of  the 
vast  system  of  machinery  by  which,  out  of  materials  the  most 
unpromising,  such  beings  are  everywhere  in  process  of  forma- 
tion ;  that  the  innumerable  contrivances  which  are  seen  in  na- 
ture, or,  more  properly  speaking,  which  constitute  nature,  all 
look  to  beneficent  ends ;  that  when  without  additional  provisions 
these  ends  would  be  imperfectly  attained,  or  trouble  and  an- 
noyance would  be  caused  by  the  instrumentalities  employed  in 
reaching  them,  such  supplementary  provisions,  remedial  or  pre- 
ventive, are  as  far  as  practicable  appended  to  the  main  design  ; 
that  incidental  evils,  so  largely  checked  or  remedied,  do  not 
suppose  either  imperfection  in  the  divine  goodness  or  limitation 
of  the  divine  power;  that  the  relation  of  God  as  Creator  to 
the  natural  world  supposes  the  ability  to  change  at  His  pleas- 
ure the  order  of  material  phenomena,  but  does  not  necessarily 
suppose  the  dependence  of  those  phenomena,  as  they  ordinarily 
arise,  upon  His  immediate  volitions ;  that  the  only  alternative 
to  natural  and  revealed  theism,  which  are  substantially  one,  is 


PROOFS   OF   THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  157 

materialism  or  pantheism,  which  differ  from  one  another  in  lit- 
tle but  nomenclature  ;  that  materialism  is  embarrassed  at  every 
step  with  the  gravest  difficulties ;  that  these  difficulties  are  met 
by  a  succession  of  hypotheses  having  no  foundation  in  ascer- 
tained facts  and  with  but  the  slenderest  support  from  analogies; 
and  that  some  of  them  involve  not  merely  what  is  incomprehen- 
sible, but  what  is  absolutely  unthinkable. 

I  now  proceed  to  inquire  whether  beyond  the  evidences  of  in- 
telligence and  purpose  in  nature,  —  using  this  term  in  its  broadest 
sense,  including  man  as  well  as  the  external  universe,  —  whether 
beyond  the  evidences  of  mind  in  nature  there  be  not  other  facts 
which,  though  not  in  themselves  proving  the  existence  of  a  per- 
sonal God,  are  more  readily  explained  on  that  supposition  than 
on  any  other,  and  so  far  support  and  strengthen  the  argument 
from  design.  I  Avill  first  ask  your  attention  to  the  proportion 
and  harmony  existing  among  the  infinities  which  lie  all  around 
us,  which  the  imagination  cannot  indeed  grasp,  but  of  whose 
reality  the  reason  and  observed  phenomena  give  us  assurance. 
I  do  not  here  refer  to  space  and  time ;  these  are  conceived  by  us 
as  necessary.  We  cannot  in  thought  annihilate  them.  Neither 
can  we  in  thought  affix  any  limits  to  them.  Though  the  whole 
universe  were  blotted  out  of  existence,  these  would  still  remain. 
They  have  been  made  the  basis  of  a  direct  argument  for  the  ex- 
istence of  an  Infinite  Being  to  whom  they  are  supposed  to  hold 
the  relation  of  attributes.  The  argument  was  first  proposed, 
if  I  remember  rightly,  by  Dr.  Samuel  Clarke.  It  afterwards 
received  a  quasi  indorsement  from  Bishop  Butler.  It  is,  how- 
ever, founded  on  a  misapprehension  of  the  nature  of  space  and 
time.  They  are  not  conceived  by  us  as  existences,  or  as  the 
attributes  of  any  existence,  but  as  antecedent  conditions  of  all 


158  PROOFS  OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 

being.  They  are  necessary  ideas  of  the  human  intelligence. 
We  cannot  divest  ourselves  of  them  nor  of  the  belief  in  cor- 
responding outward  realities. 

However  the  ideas  of  space  and  time  may  have  found  their 
way  into  the  mind  —  and  about  this  philosophers  are  not  agreed 
—  they  have  been  vastly  extended  by  the  revelations  of  science  ; 
and  it  is  through  these  that  we  have  become  acquainted  with 
another  order  of  infinities —  less  absolute,  it  may  be,  but  equally 
transcending  our  powers  of  thought  —  an  order  of  created  in- 
finities occupying  space  and  time,  and,  possibly,  commensurate 
with  them.  It  is  through  these  created  infinities  that  the  great- 
ness and  power  of  the  Creator  are  disclosed :  nor  is  it  possible 
to  form  a  sublimer  conception  of  Him  than  these  under  the 
light  of  modern  discovery  are  fitted  to  impart.  The  finite  every- 
where opens  into  the  infinite.  Whichever  way  we  turn,  there 
stretch  out  before  us  limitless  vistas  of  being.  If  we  direct 
our  gaze  backward,  it  is  met  by  an  endless  line  of  events  which 
finally  loses  itself  in  the  depths  of  a  past  eternity.  Wherever  we 
are,  to  whatever  part  of  creation  we  in  imagination  transport  our- 
selves, fathomless  abysses  of  power  still  open  beneath  and  around 
us.  It  is  true  science  is  directly  concerned  only  with  second 
causes.  But  by  widening  continually  the  visible  empire  of  these 
it  opens  to  us  larger  and  more  sublime  views  of  the  first  cause. 
Instead  of  hunting  God  from  the  universe  as  it  has  sometimes 
boasted,  and  as  timid  minds  have  feared  that  it  would  do,  it  has 
been  constantly  discovering  new  grandeurs  and  glories  which 
only  reflect  more  brightly  the  divine  perfections.  How  do  our 
minds  dilate  with  conceptions  of  the  power  of  God,  when,  on  a 
serene  winter  night,  we  gaze  into  the  heavens  in  the  light  of  all 
that  modern  discovery  has  made  known  to  us  j  when  we  recall 


PROOFS  OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  159 

and.  in  imagination  try  to  realize  the  magnitudes  and  distances  of 
the  countless  orbs  above  and  around  us  which  iQumine  the  far- 
off  depths  of  space  ;  when  we  remember  that  the  whole  visible 
firmament  is  but  the  hem  of  the  garment  of  materiality  in 
which  it  hath  pleased  the  Infinite  One  to  enrobe  Himself ;  that 
beyond  the  utmost  reach  of  our  unaided  vision  are  other  firma- 
ments equal  in  magnitude  and  splendor  to  our  own,  which  the 
telescope  alone  reveals  to  us ;  and  that  still  more  distant,  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  visible  creation,  are  discerned  tracts  of  faintly 
luminous  matter  out  of  which  new  worlds  and  systems  of  worlds 
are  believed  to  be  in  process  of  formation.  The  microscope,  too, 
discloses  to  our  wondering  gaze  equal  marvels  of  the  divine 
handiwork,  —  beings  so  minute  that  thousands  of  them  together 
can  scarcely  be  perceived  by  the  naked  eye  ;  and  yet  every  one 
perfectly  organized,  built  up  of  parts,  and  these  parts  again  com- 
posed of  myriads  of  atoms,  each  one  of  which,  in  the  light  of 
the  most  advanced  teaching  of  science,  expands  into  a  cluster 
of  worlds.  The  infinitely  little  and  the  infinitely  great  equally 
transcend  the  powers  of  human  thought.  To  God  they  are 
alike  easy  and  are  alike  characteristic  of  the  works  of  His  hand. 
In  proportion  to  the  vastness  of  God's  plans  is  the  length  of 
time  embraced  in  their  execution.  A  thousand  years  are  with 
Him  as  one  day.  How  impressive  an  illustration  of  this  truth  do 
we  have  in  the  past  history  of  the  earth  ;  in  the  slow  progress 
of  the  changes  by  which  He  prepared  it,  step  by  step,  for  human 
habitation  !  Although  the  end  must  have  been  distinctly  in 
view  from  the  beginning,  periods  of  time  were  occupied  in  reach- 
ing it  which  appall  and  bewilder  when  we  try  to  realize  them. 
And  yet,  what  is  the  entire  lapse  of  the  geologic  ages  but  a  point 
on  the  dial-plate  of  that  eternity  which  He  inhabiteth  I 


160  PROOFS  OF   THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 

Equally  in  harmony  with  the  comprehensiveness  of  God's 
plans  and  the  vast  periods  of  time  involved  in  them  are  the  ex- 
haustless  provisions  of  energy  for  ceaselessly  carrying  them  for- 
ward. We  hear  much  in  these  days  of  the  conservation  of  force, 
of  its  indestructibility,  of  its  disappearance  in  one  form  only  to 
be  followed  by  its  reappearance  in  another  and  equivalent  form. 
From  the  manner  in  which  it  is  often  referred  to,  we  might  im- 
agine that  this  law  alone  was  sufficient  to  account  for  the  unin- 
terrupted flow  of  events  in  the  natural  world,  without  supposing 
continual  upwellings  of  fresh  energy  from  the  bosom  of  matter. 
Let  us  consider  for  a  moment  what  is  really  embraced  in  the 
doctrine  of  the  conservation  of  force,  and  what,  should  the  doc- 
trine ever  be  established,  it  would  be  adequate  to  explain. 

Force  is  known  to  us  under  two  essentially  different  forms ; 
the  most  familiar  of  these,  as  well  as  the  best  understood,  is  that 
exhibited  by  a  moving  body.  It  is  not  inherent  nor  fixed,  but 
free  to  pass  from  the  body  in  which  it  for  the  time  appears  to 
any  other  body.  This  second  body  may  in  turn  transmit  it  to 
a  third,  and  so  on  indefinitely.  Matter  thus  serves  as  a  mere 
vehicle  of  this  kind  of  force ;  and  if,  as  is  believed,  its  ultimate 
molecules  are  perfectly  elastic,  it  will  receive  and  transmit  it 
without  loss.  This  force  of  matter  in  motion  may  be  transferred 
from  mass  to  mass,  or  from  mass  to  atoms,  or  from  atoms  to  mass, 
or  from  atoms  to  atoms.  After  all  these  transfers,  the  force  or 
the  quantity  of  motion  by  which  it  is  measured  will  remain  the 
samfe,  supposing  always  the  perfect  elasticity  of  the  ultimate 
constituents  of  bodies.  Such,  neither  more  nor  less,  is  the  doc- 
trine of  the  conservation  of  force,  including  its  convertibility. 

The  force  of  matter  in  motion  is  as  widely  diffused  as  matter 
itself ;  for  matter  is  nowhere  at  rest.     Its  masses  are  in  motion. 


PROOFS   OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  161 

Its  atoms  are  in  motion.  The  sun,  with  its  attendant  worlds,  is 
ceaselessly  urging  its  way  through  unknown  regions  of  space. 
Even  the  stars,  so  long  regarded  as  fixed,  are  believed  to  be 
slowly  changing  theii-  positions.  In  the  case  of  many  of  them, 
movement  has  already  been  demonstrated,  and  we  may  presume 
it  would  be  discoverable  in  all  but  for  their  vast  distances  from 
us.  Indeed,  the  law  of  gravitation  would  seem  to  necessitate 
movement  in  aU  the  aggregated  masses  of  matter  within  its  em- 
brace. The  earth,  besides  turning  daily  upon  its  axis,  and  par- 
taking of  the  common  motion  of  our  system  through  space, 
makes  its  annual  journey  round  the  sun,  traveling  at  the  rate 
of  more  than  a  thousand  miles  per  minute.  Every  particle  of 
matter  in  it  has  its  own  movement,  vibrating,  gyrating,  or  ro- 
tating, according  to  the  nature  of  the  impulse  communicated  to 
it.  All  matter  is  restless.  To  ears  sufficiently  deHcate,  there 
would  be  atomic  music  as  well  as  the  music  of  the  spheres.  "  A 
grain  of  dust,"  says  President  Wurtz,  in  his  late  address  before 
the  French  Association  for  the  Promotion  of  Science,  "  is  full 
of  innumerable  multitudes  of  material  unities,  each  one  of  which 
is  agitated  by  movements.  AU  vibrates  in  the  little  world.  In 
that  as  well  as  the  great,  motion  is  the  universal  law."  This 
motion  is  both  transferable  and  convertible,  the  quantity  always 
remaining  the  same.  The  gentle  pulses  of  the  solar  beam  put  the 
winds  in  motion.  These  beat  upon  the  ocean  and  communicate 
a  portion  of  their  force  to  its  waves.  The  waves,  dashing  for  a 
time  against  one  another,  and  breaking,  it  may  be,  upon  adja- 
cent coasts,  at  length  sink  to  rest.  In  doing  so,  they  evolve  as 
much  heat  as  was  expended  in  raising  them.  Their  visible  mo- 
tion, which  has  disappeared,  is  replaced  by  an  equal  amount  of 

invisible  molecular,  or  heat  motion.     The  steam-engine  derives 
11 


162  PROOFS  OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 

its  power  from  the  incessant  bombardment  of  its  piston  by  the 
imprisoned  molecules  of  steam.  There  is  a  loss  of  invisible  or 
heat  motion  equal  in  amount  to  that  which  appears  in  the  work- 
ing of  the  engine  and  attached  machinery.  Were  the  earth  to 
be  arrested  by  a  sudden  shock  in  its  course  round  the  sun,  all 
its  motion  would  be  converted  into  molecular  or  heat  motion, 
and  would  be  sufficient,  it  has  been  estimated,  to  raise  the  tem- 
perature of  the  entire  mass  through  11,200  degrees,  and  turn 
the  greater  part  of  it  into  vapor.  If,  when  brought  to  rest  in  its 
orbit,  it  were  allowed  to  fall  upon  the  sun,  as  it  would,  if  left  to 
itself,  with  continually  increasing  velocity,  the  heat  evolved,  it 
is  calculated,  would  be  four  hundred  times  greater.  If  all  the 
stellar  suns,  including  our  own,  with  their  accompanying  worlds, 
were  suddenly  brought  by  the  fiat  of  Omnipotence  to  a  state 
of  rest,  their  motions  of  rotation  and  translation,  converted  into 
molecular  or  heat  motion,  might  be  sufficient  to  cause  a  return 
to  their  original  nebulous  condition,  or,  without  change  of  tem- 
perature, to  carry  them  back  to  the  regions  of  space  where  they 
first  appeared. 

In  all  of  these  supposed  cases,  it  will  be  perceived,  we  have 
only  the  conversion  of  one  kind  of  motion  into  another ;  and 
if,  as  assumed,  it  takes  place  without  loss  of  motion,  it  is  be- 
cause, as  already  stated,  of  the  perfect  elasticity  of  the  constit- 
uent molecules  of  bodies.  But  upon  what  does  the  elasticity  of 
these  molecules  depend  ?  Upon  each  molecule  being  held  in  its 
position,  by  an  exact  balance  of  attractive  and  repulsive  forces, 
unceasingly  in  action,  but  varying  in  intensity  with  the  distance 
of  the  molecules,  though  not  according  to  the  same  law.  These 
forces,  unlike  the  force  of  matter  in  motion,  are  fixed,  incom- 
municable,   untransferable.     They  may  originate   motion,  but 


PROOFS  OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  163 

experience  no  loss  of  energy  in  doing  so.  The  motion  orig- 
inated by  them  may  be  either  molecular  or  heat  motion,  or 
motion  of  masses,  that  is,  motion  of  translation.  Chemical 
affinity  gives  rise  to  the  first,  and  the  attraction  of  gravitation 
to  the  second.  When  motion  of  either  kind  has  been  produced 
by  these  inherent  forces  of  matter,  it  may  be  converted  into  the 
other  without  loss.  But  the  conversion  is  effected,  it  should  be 
remembered,  only  through  the  agency  of  these  permanent  un- 
derlying forces,  inscrutable  as  they  are  exhaustless.  There  is, 
in  fact,  no  proper  conversion  of  motion.  There  is  the  arrest  of 
one  kind  of  motion  and  the  origination  of  another  equal  in 
amount.     A  little  reflection  will  show  this. 

In  every  molecular  vibration  there  is  alternate  destruction  and 
renewal  of  force.  At  the  limits  of  the  vibratory  movement  the 
molecule  has  its  motion  taken  from  it,  and  is  brought  to  a  mo- 
mentary state  of  rest.  A  new  motion  is  then  communicated  to 
it,  equal  in  amount,  but  in  the  opposite  direction.  The  phe- 
nomenon is  analogous  to  that  of  the  shuttlecock  playing  be- 
tween two  battledoors.  The  continual  playing  of  this,  back- 
wards and  forwards,  might  as  well  be  taken  as  an  instance  of 
the  conversion  of  force.  All  that  we  have,  however,  in  either 
case,  is  the  destruction  and  renewal  of  force  following  one  an- 
other in  rapid  succession.  The  shock  of  the  avalanche  is 
received  by  the  elastic  molecules  of  its  own  mass,  and  of  the 
rocks  and  earth  upon  which  it  sticks.  These  molecules  approx- 
imate one  another  until  the  increase  of  repulsive  energy  is  suffi- 
cient to  balance  the  force  of  the  descending  mass,  and  thus 
arrest  its  motion.  The  more  energetic  repulsion  produced  by 
the  momentary  approximation  of  the  molecules  intensifies  these 
vibratory  movements,  and  causes  a  proportionate  rise  in  tern- 


164  PROOFS  OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 

perature.  In  all  cases  where  one  form  of  motion  disappears, 
and  another  comes  into  view  and  takes  its  place,  we  shall  find, 
on  examination,  that  it  is  by  the  intermediation  of  these  under- 
lying forces  of  attraction  and  repulsion,  in  comparison  with 
which  the  force  of  moving  bodies,  however  vast  it  may  be,  or 
however  widely  diffused  through  the  universe,  is  but  a  grain  of 
sand  on  the  sea-shore,  or  a  single  drop  amid  the  oceanic  waters. 
Gunpowder,  nitro-glycerine,  or  the  fulminates  of  mercury  and 
silver,  may  serve  to  give  us  some  idea  of  the  forces,  attractive 
and  repulsive,  embosomed  in  all  matter.  They  are  not  greater 
in  these  than  in  other  substances,  but  only  in  less  stable  equi- 
librium. Every  cubic  inch  of  earth,  or  rock,  or  wood,  or  flesh, 
holds  in  disguise  forces  as  great,  attractions  and  repulsions  as 
intense,  as  the  most  explosive  compound  ever  invented  by  man. 
We  have  seen  with  what  velocity  —  a  thousand  miles  per  min- 
ute—  the  earth  flies  along  its  orbit;  and  yet  the  sun,  at  the 
distance  of  nearly  a  hundred  millions  of  miles,  by  its  silent 
attraction,  takes  from  it  all  its  motion,  and  imparts  to  it  an 
equal  amount  in  an  opposite  direction,  twice  every  year.  The 
sun  is,  in  like  manner,  bending  all  the  other  planets  into  curvi- 
linear movements  above  itself.  And  although  it  has  been  doing 
this  enormous  amount  of  work  during  the  entire  geologic  ages, 
it  shows  no  signs  of  exhaustion  nor  decline  of  power.  These 
mighty  forces  of  attraction  and  repulsion,  in  ceaseless  operation, 
as  active  and  fresh  and  full  of  energy  now  as  on  the  morning 
of  creation,  profoundly  mysterious,  as  inscrutable  as  they  are 
mighty,  which  no  thoughtful  man  can  contemplate  without  awe, 
and  which,  embodied  in  nature,  some  of  our  scientific  friends 
would  have  us  worship  as  the  only  and  true  God  :  these  forces, 
I  say,  are  not  limited  to  the  material  universe,  but  extend  out 


PROOFS  OF   THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  165 

into  the  surrounding  ether.  Indeed,  it  is  in  this  thin  fluid,  if  it 
be  a  fluid,  that  energy  is  most  conspicuously  manifested.  So 
great  is  its  tenuity,  that  wavelets  are  formed  in  it  only  the  sixty 
thousandth  part  of  an  inch  in  breadth ;  and  with  such  intensity 
do  its  particles  repel  one  another,  that  these  wavelets  are  prop- 
agated through  it  with  the  amazing  velocity  of  two  hundred 
thousand  miles  per  second  ;  or  about  a  million  times  faster  than 
sound-waves  travel  through  the  air.  We  have  in  this  subtle 
essence  as  near  an  approach  to  pure  force,  or  force  without 
matter,  as  it  is  possible  for  the  mind  to  conceive. 

How  insignificant,  then,  is  the  mere  force  of  moving  bodies, 
to  which  alone  the  law  of  convertibility  and  conservation  ap- 
plies, by  the  side  of  mighty,  living  forces,  pervading  all  matter, 
emerging  apparently  from  its  atoms,  taking  on  the  forms  of  at- 
traction and  repulsion,  or  at  least  most  readily  conceived  by  us 
under  these  forms,  ever  active,  not  only  originating  all  motion, 
but  converting  and  conserving  it  when  originated  !  Or  what  is 
this  same  force  of  moving  bodies  in  comparison  with  the  ocean 
of  ethereal  energy,  embosoming  the  material  universe,  and 
stretching  on,  it  may  be,  through  the  infinitudes  of  space  ?  It 
is  in  these  ever  living  forces,  pervading  all  things,  sustaining  all 
things,  encompassing  all  things,  —  the  source  of  all  motion,  tire- 
less, exhaustless,  infinite,  —  that  the  power  of  the  Omnipotent 
One  is  most  distinctly  adumbrated.  They  are  only,  however,  in 
due  proportion  to  the  vast  plan  for  whose  execution  they  were 
provided,  —  a  plan  embracing  the  whole  visible  and  invisible 
creation,  and  reaching  down  through  the  cycles  of  eternity. 
They  illustrate  the  harmonious  perfections  of  Him  who  is  in 
all  and  over  all. 

I  proceed  to  notice  very  briefly  certain  endowments  of  the 


166  PROOFS   OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 

human  mind  or  soul  which  might  be  expected  if  it  were  formed 
by  a  personal  God,  but  which  are  not  so  readily  explained  on 
any  other  supposition.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  a  sense 
of  duty,  the  feeling  of  dependence,  the  sentiment  of  reverence, 
and  an  impulse  to  worship,  belong  essentially  to  the  nature  of 
man.  Equally  universal  with  these,  however  originating,  is  the 
belief  in  a  superior  Intelligence,  or  superior  Intelligences,  to- 
wards whom  the  religious  sentiments  are  directed.  As  the  testi- 
mony of  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  on  this  subject  cannot  be  thought 
prejudiced,  I  give  it.  "  That  the  countless  different,"  I  quote 
his  words,  "  and  yet  allied  phenomena,  presented  by  all  relig- 
ions, are  accidental,  or  factitious,  is  an  untenable  supposition. 
A  candid  examination  of  the  evidence  quite  negatives  the  doc- 
trine maintained  by  some  that  creeds  are  priestly  inventions. 
Even  as  a  mere  question  of  probabilities,  it  cannot  rationally  be 
concluded  that  in  every  society,  past  and  present,  savage  and 
civilized,  certain  members  of  the  community  have  combined  to 
delude  the  rest  in  ways  so  analogous.  To  any  who  may  allege 
that  some  primitive  fiction  was  devised  by  some  primitive  priest- 
hood before  yet  mankind  had  diverged  from  a  common  centre, 
a  reply  is  furnished  by  philology  ;  for  philology  proves  the  dis- 
persion of  mankind  to  have  commenced  before  there  existed  a 
language  sufficiently  organized  to  express  religious  ideas.  More- 
over, were  it  otherwise  tenable,  the  hypothesis  of  an  artificial 
origin  fails  to  account  for  the  facts.  It  does  not  explain  why, 
under  all  changes  of  form,  certain  elements  of  religious  belief 
remain  constant.  It  does  not  show  us  how  it  happens  that, 
while  adverse  criticism  has  from  age  to  age  gone  on  destroying 
particular  theological  dogmas,  it  has  not  destroyed  the  funda- 
mental conception  underlying  these  dogmas.     It  leaves  us  with- 


PROOFS  OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  167 

out  any  solution  of  the  striking  circumstance  that  when,  from 
the  absurdities  and  corruptions  accumulating  around  them,  na- 
tional creeds  have  fallen  into  discredit,  ending  in  indifferentism 
or  positive  denial,  there  has  always  by  and  by  arisen  a  reasser- 
tion  of  them,  if  not  the  same  in  form,  still  the  same  in  essence. 
Thus  the  universality  of  religious  ideas,  their  independent  evo- 
lution among  different  primitive  races,  and  their  great  vitality, 
unite  in  showing  that  their  source  must  be  deep-seated  instead 
of  superficial.  In  other  words,  we  are  obliged  to  admit  that  if 
not  supernaturally  derived,  as  tho  majority  contend,  they  must 
be  derived  out  of  human  experiences,  slowly  accumulated,  and 
organized. 

"  Should  it  be  asserted  that  religious  ideas  are  products  of 
the  religious  sentiment,  which,  to  gratify  itself,  prompts  imagi- 
nations that  it  afterwards  projects  into  the  external  world,  and 
by  and  by  mistakes  for  realities ;  the  problem  is  not  solved,  but 
only  removed  further  back.  Whether  the  wish  be  father  to  the 
thought,  or  whether  sentiment  and  idea  have  a  common  gen- 
esis, there  equally  arises  the  question.  Whence  comes  the  senti- 
ment ?  That  it  is  a  constituent  in  man's  nature  is  implied  by 
the  hypothesis,  and  cannot  be  denied  by  those  who  prefer  other 
hypotheses." 

This  view  of  the  human  constitution,  so  forcibly  presented  by 
Mr.  Spencer,  is  borne  out  by  the  teachings  of  history.  All  the 
great  faiths  which  have  swayed  mankind  are  believed  to  have 
been  originally  monotheistic.  The  belief  in  one  God,  eternal 
and  omnipotent,  the  Source  and  Author  of  all  things,  would 
seem  to  be  native  to  the  human  soul ;  or,  if  not  native,  to  be 
an  immediate  inspiration  of  the  reason  and  conscience.  Idola- 
try and  polytheism  appear  as  corruptions  of   this  belief.     In 


168 


PROOFS  OF   THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 


Buddhism  and  Brahminism,  as  we  first  find  them,  and  also  in 
that  marvelous  faith  which  prevailed  so  many  thousand  years 
ago  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  the  fundamental  truths  of  natural 
religion  stand  out  with  scarcely  less  prominence  than  in  Judaism 
or  Christianity.  The  spiritual  needs  of  man  are  recognized, 
and  provision  in  different  ways  is  made  for  them.  The  moral 
law  is  promulgated  under  divine  sanctions.  Some  of  its  noblest 
utterances  are  anticipated  by  the  founders  of  the  early  faiths 
and  philosophies.  Confucius,  who  lived  between  five  and  six 
hundred  years  before  our  era,  is  said  to  have  enjoined  the 
doing  unto  others  as  we  would  have  them  do  unto  us.  At  a 
still  earlier  period,  the  obligation  to  love  God,  and  to  do  good 
to  man,  to  give  food  to  the  hungry,  drink  to  the  thirsty,  cloth- 
ing to  the  naked,  and  shelter  to  the  outcast,  was  recognized  by 
the  devout  Copt.  Many  of  the  precepts  of  Buddha  call  to 
mind  the  inspired  wisdom  of  Solomon,  and  even  the  more  di- 
vine words  of  Him  who  spake  as  never  man  spoke.  The  late 
Bishop  Cotton,  in  an  address  to  the  students  of  a  missionary 
institution  at  Calcutta,  advised  them  to  use  a  certain  hymn  of 
the  Rig  Veda,  the  most  ancient  of  the  Hindu  Scriptures,  in 
their  daily  prayers.  Socrates,  who  lived  at  a  later  period,  but 
still  more  than  four  hundred  years  before  Christ,  thought  it 
was  noble  to  forgive  injuries,  and  do  good  to  enemies,  but  knew 
that  men  were  not  prepared  for  so  unselfish  and  God-like  a 
virtue. 

I  do  not  refer  to  this  universal  recognition  of  a  supreme 
Being,  and  of  the  duty  of  rendering  obedience  and  homage  to 
Him,  as  a  proof  of  the  actual  existence  of  such  a  Being,  al- 
though it  has  been  so  considered,  but  simply  as  showing  that 
man  is  constituted  precisely  as  we  should  expect  him  to  be  con- 


PROOFS   OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  169 

stituted  on  that  supposition,  —  that  the  endowments  of  his  na- 
ture are  in  harmony  with  that  supposition,  and  more  readily  ex- 
plained upon  it  than  upon  any  other  supposition.  They  thus 
support  and  corroborate  the  argument  from  the  marks  of  de- 
sign, so  apparent  in  every  part  of  nature.  Had  the  constitution 
of  man  been  different,  an  explanation  would  have  been  de- 
manded, which  theism  could  hardly  have  furnished.  As  it  is, 
theism,  and  theism  only,  satisfactorily  accounts  for  his  consti- 
tution. 

But  the  most  important  support  to  all  the  truths  of  natural 
religion  —  the  fullest  confirmation  of  them  —  is  derived  from 
Revelation.  More  light  was  needed  than  nature  alone  can  give. 
So  strongly  was  this  felt  by  Socrates  that  he  looked  for  some 
communication  from  an  immediate  and  divine  source.  Indeed, 
if  God  had  never  spoken,  if  the  grave  had  remained  forever  si- 
lent, the  very  fact  would  shroud  in  deeper  mystery  the  problems 
of  man's  origin  and  destiny.  In  moments  when  faith  is  weak, 
and  a  world  of  matter  and  sense  presses  hard  on  every  side,  and 
God  holds  Himself  from  us ;  when  we  go  forward,  but  He  is 
not  there,  and  backward,  but  we  cannot  perceive  Him ;  on  the 
right  hand  where  He  doth  work,  but  we  cannot  behold  Him  ; 
and  He  hideth  Himself  on  the  left  hand  that  we  cannot  see 
Him,  and  there  is  no  audible  or  visible  response  to  our  most 
passionate  yearnings  after  Him  ;  we  need  all  the  assurance  of 
His  presence  and  care  that  a  direct  revelation  from  Him  can 
give  us. 

Christianity  both  supplements  and  confirms  natural  religion. 
By  assuming  the  fundamental  truths  of  natural  religion,  it 
lends  to  them  the  support  of  its  own  evidences,  internal,  his- 
toric, and   miraculous.     Natural  religion,  in  turn,  renders  to 


170  PROOFS  OF   THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 

Christianity  scarcely  less  important  services.  They  mutually 
strengthen  and  support  each  other.  Natural  religion  has  inhe- 
rent and  necessary  defects  ;  Christianity  supplies  them.  Natu- 
ral religion  contains  within  it  a  prophecy  of  better  things  to 
come  ;  Christianity  is  the  fulfillment  of  that  prophecy.  Natural 
religion  reaches  out  into  the  darkness,  and  with  uncertain  hand 
feels  after  immortality  ;  Christianity  brings  it  to  light.  Natu- 
ral religion,  under  a  sense  of  guilt  and  ill-desert,  piles  its  altars 
with  costly  sacrifices,  in  the  hope  of  averting  the  divine  wrath, 
and  propitiating  the  divine  favor,  but  neither  peace  nor  joy 
comes  through  them  ;  Christianity  offers  free  pardon  for  sin, 
and  the  joy  of  innocence  and  hope  of  heaven,  through  an  infi- 
nite and  divine  atonement  made  by  God's  own  Son,  suificient 
for  the  whole  race.  Natural  religion  has  exhausted  its  resources 
in  endeavors  to  make  men  better  ;  with  what  success  the  his- 
tory of  the  world,  and  of  the  faiths  which  have  prevailed  in  it, 
sufficiently  shows.  These  faiths,  although  generally  founded  on 
the  truths  of  natural  religion,  have  utterly  failed  to  purify  and 
elevate  humanity.  Nay,  they  have  themselves  sunk,  one  after 
another,  under  the  weight  of  corruptions  with  which  they  were 
overlaid  by  human  interests  and  human  passions,  and  which 
they  had  not  vitality  and  strength  enough  to  throw  off.  Chris- 
tianity has  at  command  new  forces,  and  employs  a  different 
method.  It  does  not  attempt  to  reform  merely  ;  it  regenerates. 
It  does  not  seek  to  gather  grapes  from  thorns,  nor  figs  from 
thistles.  It  puts  the  grape  in  place  of  the  thorn,  and  the  fig  in 
place  of  the  thistle.  It  reaches  conduct  through  character,  and 
character  through  its  hidden  sources  in  the  soul.  It  renovates, 
purifies,  and  elevates  society,  by  renovating,  purifying,  and  ele^ 
vating  all  the  members  of  society.     It  is,  moreover,  endowed 


PROOFS   OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  171 

with  an  intensity  of  life  and  vigor  which  enables  it  not  only  to 
free  itseK  from  the  rubbish  of  error  and  abuses  which  time  col- 
lects about  it,  but  to  burst  the  forms  in  which  men  would  im- 
prison it,  and  snap  the  withes  of  creeds  with  which  they  attempt 
to  bind  it. 

Many  of  the  difficulties  of  natural  religion  disappear  under 
the  light  of  Christianity.  How,  for  instance,  does  the  revealed 
fact,  that  this  world  is  intended  as  a  place  for  moral  probation ; 
that  all  its  arrangements  bear  upon  that  end ;  that  the  chief 
purpose  of  life  is  the  formation  of  character,  and  that  our  ex- 
istence here  is  only  preparatory  to  another  and  higher  existence 
beyond  this  world,  —  how  do  these  revealed  facts  change  the 
aspects  of  our  earthly  being  and  condition?  Mysteries  are 
resolved ;  fears  are  dissipated ;  darkness  gives  place  to  light ; 
good  comes  out  of  evil ;  and  suffering,  disease,  and  death  are 
turned  into  angels  of  mercy. 

I  have  said  that  natural  rehgion  is  best  understood  when 
studied  in  the  light  of  Christianity,  —  that  there  is  much  in 
God's  Book  of  Nature  which  Christianity  alone  interprets.  Per- 
mit me  to  add,  that  I  think  it  almost  equally  important  that  the 
truths  of  revelation  should  be  studied  in  the  light  of  natural 
religion.  Unless  so  studied,  our  conceptions  of  them  are  hable 
to  be  narrowed  and  distorted  by  the  medium  through  which 
they  are  presented.  In  the  Book  of  Nature  God  speaks  to  us 
in  His  own  language,  and  says  what  is  unutterable  in  any  form 
of  human  speech.  In  the  Book  of  Revelation,  He  speaks  to  us 
in  a  human  language,  and  under  human  forms  of  thought. 
The  communication  must  be  adapted  to  the  limited  and  imper- 
fect vehicle  through  which  it  reaches  us.  Who  can  gaze  into 
the  heavens,  or  look  out  upon  the  ocean,  without  feeling  how 


172  PROOFS  OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 

inadequate  any  combination  of  mere  words  must  be,  to  embody 
and  express  the  divine  thought !  It  is  by  studying  the  Word  of 
God  and  the  works  of  God,  each  in  the  light  of  the  other,  that 
we  may  hope  to  arrive  at  the  truest  and  fullest  knowledge  of 
His  character,  and  learn  more  of  His  will  and  purpose  concern- 
ing us.  Not  a  little  of  the  breadth  and  strength  and  power  of 
Bishop  Butler  was  due  to  his  having  drawn  so  largely  from  both 
sources. 

I  have  not  thus  far  spoken  of  the  bearings  of  the  important 
question  which  we  have  been  considering  upon  the  interests  and 
destinies  of  humanity.  In  closing,  I  may  be  permitted  briefly 
to  refer  to  them,  though  not  in  the  character  of  argument.  The 
doctrines  of  a  personal  God  and  a  human  soul  stand  or  fall  to- 
gether. No  God,  no  soul,  no  hereafter.  The  grave  is  our  end 
—  the  bound  of  all  our  hopes  and  fears  and  joys.  We  lie 
down  in  it,  in  eternal  forgetfulness.  Indeed,  it  is  the  percep- 
tion of  this  consequence  of  materialism  and  pantheism  that 
commends  these  faiths  to  some  of  our  scientific  friends.  They 
see  in  them  deliverance  for  mankind  from  the  fears  of  a  here- 
after. How  different  is  the  spirit  of  Mr.  Edward  B.  Tylor,  as 
manifested  in  his  work  on  "  Primitive  Culture,"  one  of  the  ablest 
and  saddest  books  which  I  have  ever  read,  —  sad,  from  the  con- 
stant reflection  by  its  pages  of  struggle  with  unbelief.  At  the 
close  of  one  of  his  chapters  on  animism,  he  speaks  of  the  doc- 
trine of  a  future  state  as  follows  :  — 

He  who  believes  that  his  thread  of  life  will  be  severed  once  and  for- 
ever by  the  fatal  shears,  well  knows  that  he  wants  a  purpose  and  joy 
in  life  which  belongs  to  him  who  looks  for  a  life  to  come.  Few  men 
feel  real  contentment  in  the  expectation  of  vanishing  out  of  conscious 
existence,  henceforth,  like  the  great  Buddha,  to  exist  only  in  their 


PROOFS   OF   THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  173 

works.  To  remain  incarnate  in  the  memory  of  friends  is  something. 
A  few  gieat  spirits  may  enjoy,  in  the  reverence  of  future  ages,  a  thou- 
sand years  or  so  of  "  subjective  immortality ;  "  though,  as  for  mankind 
at  large,  the  individual's  personal  interest  hardly  extends  beyond  those 
who  have  lived  in  his  time,  while  his  own  memory  scarcely  outlives  the 
third  and  fourth  generation.  But,  over  and  above  these  secular  mo- 
tives, the  belief  in  immortality  extends  its  powei'ful  influence  through 
life,  and  culminates  at  the  last  hour,  when,  setting  aside  the  very  evi- 
dence of  their  senses,  the  mourners  smile  through  their  tears  and  say  it 
is  not  death,  but  life. 

If,  turning  away  alike  from  the  teachings  of  nature  and  the 
teachings  of  revelation,  we  refuse  to  beheve  in  a  personal  God, 
in  what  shall  we  believe?  If,  deaf  to  the  innumerable  voices 
which  come  from  without  and  from  within,  we  reject  theism, 
what  shall  we  take  in  its  place  ?  Shall  it  be  atheism,  or  mate- 
rialism, or  pantheism  ?  Not  atheism,  surely  ;  not  shallow,  un- 
reasoning atheism.  Anything  better  than  that.  Better  the 
rehabilitation  in  nature  of  her  ancient  divinities.  Better  for 
head,  better  for  heart,  better  for  soul.  Better  that  Apollo 
should  again  curb  with  his  strong  arm  the  fiery  steeds  of  the 
Sun,  —  the  swift-footed  Hours  dancing  in  faithful  attendance 
around  his  flying  car.  Better  that  Neptune  should  once  more 
traverse  the  ocean  in  his  dolphin-drawn  chariot,  ruling  by  his 
trident  the  waves,  with  a  huge  train  of  gamboling  monsters  in 
his  wake.  Better  that  the  forests  should  be  still  peopled  by 
dryads,  and  that  every  river  and  brook  and  fountain  should  have 
its  naiad.  Better  that  the  features  of  a  god  should  look  out 
from  every  knoll  and  rock  and  tree  than  that  a  blank,  dead 
atheism  should  spread  over  and  empale  all  nature. 

Shall  it  be  materialism,  with  its  vast  masses  and  mighty  forces 


174  PROOFS   OF   THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 

and  eternal  processes  ?  Better  this  than  atheism.  Shall  we 
worship  masses  and  forces  and  processes  ?  if  we  can  ;  it  is  bet- 
ter than  no  worship.  Shall  we  say  to  nature,  embodying  those 
masses  and  forces  and  processes,  but  irradiated  by  no  light 
of  mind,  Thou  art  our  God  ?  Better  a  Nature  God,  uncon- 
scious .and  without  intelligence,  than  no  God.  But  let  us  look 
at  materialism  a  little  more  nearly,  and  what  it  really  is  ; 
what  it  gives  us  ;  how  it  evolves  the  order  and  harmony  of  the 
universe,  and  what  and  for  what  man  is  made  by  it.  It  may  be 
profitable  to  listen  a  moment  to  its  teachings.  Whence  this  fair 
world,  with  all  its  provisions  for  the  support  of  such  myriads  of 
joyous  existences  ?  "  It  was  self -evolved.  Mind  had  no  part 
in  its  production.  All  its  apparent  array  of  means  was  the 
mere  result  of  chance  —  one  of  the  possible  issues  of  an  original 
chaos  of  atoms,  every  one  of  whose  movements  was  determined 
by  blind  law.  Nature,  not  God  ;  Nature,  herself  blind  and  un- 
conscious, is  the  author  of  all  these  nicely-adjusted  arrange- 
ments—  of  all  this  furniture  of  life  in  the  heavens  above  us, 
and  in  the  earth  under  us.  After  countless  ages  of  unconscious 
struggle,  of  combinations  and  recombinations,  of  constructions 
and  reconstructions  innumerable,  this  grand  result  was  at  length 
blindly  reached."  Whence  the  innumerable  tribes  of  plants  and 
animals  by  which  the  earth  is  tenanted  ?  "  Nature,  after  having 
by  a  whole  past  eternity  of  unconscious  struggles  accidentally 
effected  the  organization  of  our  planet,  continued  her  blind 
efforts,  and  at  length,  by  a  chance  combination  of  the  right  ele- 
ments, gave  birth  to  the  first  living  being.  A  starting-point 
was  thus  secured  for  a  new  series  of  developments.  From  this 
starting-point  life  was  carried  upwards,  partly  by  fortunate  acci- 
dents rewarding  the  uninterrupted  struggles  of  Nature,  partly 


PROOFS   OF   THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN.  175 

by  the  conscious  and  voluntary  efforts  of  the  individual  to  adapt 
himself  to  new  conditions,  and  partly  by  natural  selection  or  the 
survival  of  the  fittest.  Millions  of  ages  roll  away.  The  mol- 
luscan,  ichthian,  reptilian,  and  mammalian  types  are  successively 
reached.  At  length  the  persevering  efforts  of  unconscious  Na- 
ture, seconded  by  favoring  circumstances  and  happy  chances, 
are  rewarded  by  the  appearance  of  one  of  the  quadrimiaua."  And 
what  of  man  ?  "  Man  comes  next.  He  is  a  monkey  of  larger 
growth ;  with  cranium  more  developed,  and  extremities  more  spe- 
cialized,—  but  still  a  monkey.  His  parentage  is  revealed  in  every 
feature.  His  life,  too,  shows  it.  He  is  born  and  grows  up.  He 
eats  ;  he  drinks  ;  he  sleeps  ;  he  loves  ;  he  hates  ;  he  hopes ;  he 
fears  ;  he  dies.  His  intelligence  is  greater,  owing  to  the  larger 
size  of  his  brain.  Hence  he  clothes  himself ;  he  builds  houses ; 
he  plants  trees ;  he  rides ;  he  dances ;  he  buys ;  he  sells ;  he 
talks  about  philosophy  and  law,  free-will  and  foreordination, 
and  evidence  of  design,  and  causes  efficient  and  final,  and  es- 
sences material  and  spiritual.  But  after  thus  riding  and  dan- 
cing and  talking  away  the  brief  span  of  his  existence,  he  dies 
like  the  monkey,  and,  like  the  monkey,  transfers  the  life,  which 
he  had  received  from  others,  to  the  worms  that  feed  upon  him. 
His  dust  goes  to  feed  the  roots  of  a  neighboring  tree,  or  clothe 
with  fresh  beauty  the  flowers  that  bloom  over  it."  And  is  that 
all?  That  is  all.  Such  is  undisguised  materialism.  Shall 
we  embrace  it,  and  give  up  the  worship  of  God  and  hope  of 
heaven  ? 

Nor  has  pantheism  more  to  recommend  it.  In  fact,  it  differs 
from  materialism  in  little  but  name.  The  substance  of  things 
remains  the  same,  whether  we  call  it  matter  or  whether  we  call 
it  God.     Both  deny  the  existence  of   a  personal  Intelligence 


176  PROOFS  OF  THE  ARGUMENT  FROM  DESIGN. 

(with  the  attributes  of  will  and  character),  and  it  is  only  such  a 
Being  that  can  awaken  our  love  and  reverence,  or  that  we  can 
draw  near  to  in  worship.  Pantheism  is  as  much  at  variance 
with  the  evidences  of  design  in  the  external  world  as  material- 
ism. It  is  also  as  far  from  satisfying  the  demands  of  our  spir- 
itual nature.  What  is  it  to  me,  when  my  heart  reaches  out  after 
God,  and  I  fain  would  know  Him,  to  be  informed  that  He  is  all 
around  me,  in  everything  which  I  see  and  handle  ;  that  the  food 
which  I  eat,  the  water  which  I  drink,  the  garments  which  I  wear, 
and  the  ground  upon  which  I  tread,  are  parts  of  Him  ?  What 
is  it  to  me,  when  my  soul  is  filled  with  dread  and  horror  at 
thought  of  falling  into  naught,  when  I  pant  for  life  —  for 
"  more  life  and  fuller  "  —  for  life  immortal  ?  What  is  it  to  me 
to  be  assured  that  death  is  only  a  change  ;  that,  though  I  shall 
personally  cease  to  exist,  the  elements  of  my  being  will  con- 
tinue ;  that  they  will  enter  into  new  combinations  and  minister 
to  new  forms  of  life ;  that  they  will  cut  the  air  in  wing  of  bird, 
or  cleave  the  water  in  fin  of  fish,  or  blush  in  the  rose,  or  ex- 
hale in  fragrance  from  the  lily,  or  flutter  in  the  breeze,  or  dance 
in  the  sunbeam,  or  vibrate  in  ether,  or  seek,  it  may  be,  enduring 
repose  in  bed  of  limestone  or  block  of  granite  ?  I  turn  indig- 
nantly away  from  all  this  impertinence,  to  listen  to  the  voices  of 
nature  and  the  voice  of  revelation,  and  receive  from  all  around, 
within,  and  above  me,  the  assurance  of  a  personal  God  and 
Heavenly  Father,  who  knows  and  loves  me,  and  whom  I,  made 
in  His  likeness,  may  know  and  love  and  dwell  with  forever. 


A  DISCOURSE 


COHUEMOBATTVE  OF 


FRANCIS    WAYLAND, 

DELIVERED  BEFORE  THE  ALUMNI  OF  BROWN  UNIVERSITY,  SEPTEMBER  4,  1866. 


Alumni  of  Brown  University  : 

Since  we  last  gathered  on  this  consecrated  spot,  to  extend  to 
one  another  the  hand  of  cordial  greeting,  and  to  receive  afresh 
the  benediction  of  our  Alma  Mater,  a  great  sorrow  has  fallen 
upon  us.  He  whose  presence  was  so  intimately  associated  with 
these  scenes,  who  more  than  any  one  else  attracted  hither  our 
annual  pilgrimages,  whom  we  so  honored  and  loved,  our  early 
instructor  and  guide  and  friend,  whose  prayers  ceased  not  daily 
to  ascend  for  us,  and  whose  blessing  ever  followed  us,  the  great, 
the  good,  the  venerated  Wayland  is  no  more.  How  did  the  sad 
tidings,  when  first  borne  by  telegraph  over  the  land,  smite  upon 
our  hearts  !  How  did  pursuit  for  a  time  pall,  and  desire  slacken, 
and  motive  fail !  A  part  of  our  very  being  seemed  taken  from 
us.  The  same  sky  was  no  longer  over  us.  A  light,  which  had 
beamed  so  long  and  so  benignantly  upon  us,  had  gone  out. 
The  same  atmosphere  was  no  longer  around  us.  A  great  heart, 
with  such  power  of  sustaining  and  comforting  by  its  sympathies, 
had  ceased  to  beat.     A  grand  and  heroic  nature,  whose  simple 

12 


178  A   DISCOURSE    ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

presence  was  an  inspiration  to  every  virtue,  had  passed  from 
the  earth. 

But  the  loss  and  grief  were  not  ours  alone.  We  have  a  large 
companionship  in  sorrow.  The  exalted  character  of  him  whom 
we  mourn,  his  great  public  services,  and  his  long  life  of  unselfish 
devotion  to  the  highest  interests  of  humanity,  made  him  very 
widely  known,  and  gave  him  a  place  in  the  affections  and 
respect  of  the  community,  such  as  few  are  permitted  to  hold. 
Of  this  the  yarious  organs  through  which  popular  feeling  is 
accustomed  to  express  itself  have  given  evidence.  The  press 
all  over  the  land  has  borne  witness  to  the  sincerity  and  depth 
of  the  public  grief.  Numerous  benevolent  associations  have 
recorded  their  profound  sense  of  the  loss  which  the  interests  of 
virtue  and  the  cause  of  philanthropy  have  everywhere  sus- 
tained. The  pulpit,  while  it  has  mourned  the  removal  of  one 
of  its  chief  ornaments,  has  paid  spontaneous  and  fervid  homage 
to  his  exalted  worth  and  to  the  power  of  his  Christian  charac- 
ter. Literature  has  hastened  to  embalm  in  her  own  frankin- 
cense his  name,  that  it  may  go  down  to  posterity  among  the 
benefactors  of  the  race. 

And  now  we  have  assembled  to  mingle  our  grief  with  the 
general  sorrow ;  to  recall  the  more  prominent  events  in  the  his- 
tory of  one  whose  life  was  so  true,  so  beneficent,  so  worthy ;  to 
review  his  eminent  services,  extending  over  a  period  of  almost 
half  a  century,  and  reaching  in  their  influence  every  interest  of 
society ;  to  trace  anew  the  lineaments  of  his  grand  character, 
and  to  hang  the  picture  forever  in  the  chambers  of  memory. 

In  the  discharge  of  this  grateful  office  the  duty  of  speaker 
has  devolved  upon  me.  Although  I  am  fully  aware  of  the 
magnitude  and  difficulty  of  the  task  assigned  me,  and  painfully 


A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND.  179 

conscious  that  I  am  wholly  unequal  to  it,  in  obedience  to  your 
commands,  as  well  as  from  love  of  the  service,  I  shall  endeavor 
to  perform  it  as  I  best  may,  relying  upon  your  indulgence  for 
my  many,  and,  as  I  fear,  grievous  shortcomings.  I  am  the  less 
embarrassed,  when  I  remember  that  the  portrait  which  I  would 
have  you  contemplate  is  already  in  your  minds,  and  that  I  have 
only  to  touch  aright  the  chords  of  association  in  order  that  it 
may  stand  out  before  you  in  all  the  massive  strength  and 
beauty  of  the  original 

Francis  Wayland  was  born  in  the  city  of  New  York,  March 
11,  1796.  He  was  the  son  of  Rev.  Francis  and  Sarah  Way- 
land,  who  came  from  England  to  this  country  a  short  time  pre- 
vious to  his  birth.  His  father  was  a  clergyman  of  the  Baptist 
denomination,  remarkable  rather  for  the  goodness  of  his  heart, 
and  the  guilelessness,  simplicity,  and  purity  of  his  Christian  char- 
acter, than  for  those  more  brilliant  qualities  which  dazzle  and 
captivate  in  the  popular  preacher.  His  mother  was  a  woman  of 
high  intellectual  endowments  and  great  force  of  character.  Of 
her  as  well  as  of  his  father,  he  always  spoke  with  the  deepest 
filial  reverence.  While  he  was  still  a  boy,  the  family  removed 
to  Poughkeepsie.  At  the  academy  in  that  place,  under  the  care 
of  Mr.  Daniel  H.  Barnes,  he  took  his  first  lessons  in  the  Latin 
and  Greek  languages.  He  remained  there  until  the  spring  of 
1811,  when  at  the  age  of  fifteen  years  he  entered  the  sophomore 
class,  in  Union  College,  Schenectady,  New  York.  Of  his  col- 
lege course  I  have  Httle  knowledge.  He  was  accustomed  in 
after  life  to  speak  of  it  as  having  embraced  too  much  reading 
and  too  little  study.  But,  from  the  fact  that  he  was  subse- 
quently in^ated  to  become  a  member  of  the  faculty,  I  infer  that 
his  scholarship  must  have  been  at  least  satisfactory. 


180  A    DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

Soon  after  leaving  college,  he  commenced  the  study  of  medi- 
cine under  Dr.  Hale,  of  Troy,  with  whom  he  remained  about  six 
months.  He  then  entered  the  of&ce  of  Dr.  Eli  Burritt,  of  the 
same  place,  and  continued  with  him  until  his  medical  studies 
were  completed.  A  more  than  usually  intimate  relation  seems 
to  have  grown  up  between  instructor  and  pupil.  The  Doctor, 
who  was  an  able  man,  and  genial  companion,  as  well  as  skillful 
physician,  took  delight  in  opening  to  the  enthusiastic  young 
student  the  rich  stores  of  his  professional  reading  and  experi- 
ence. He  also  extended  to  him  freely  the  opportunities  which 
a  large  practice  offered  for  the  actual  study  of  the  different 
forms  of  disease,  taking  care  to  guide  him  aright  in  making 
observations  and  in  deriving  conclusions  from  them.  It  was 
under  these  favoring  influences  that  he  first  awoke  to  a  con- 
sciousness of  his  powers,  and  that  his  mind  acquired  those 
practical  tendencies  by  which  it  was  ever  afterwards  charac- 
terized. I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  no  period  of  his  life  was 
richer  in  memories,  or  more  fruitful  in  results,  than  the  two 
years  which  he  passed  as  a  student  of  medicine  in  the  office  of 
Dr.  Burritt.  He  never  mentioned  the  name  of  this  early  friend 
and  instructor  but  with  expressions  of  affectionate  respect  and 
gratitude. 

But  the  foundation  that  was  so  carefully  laid  for  success  and 
eminence  in  his  chosen  profession  was  destined  to  serve  other 
and  different  purposes.  He  had  but  just  been  admitted  to  prac- 
tice, when  a  change  took  place  in  his  views  of  life  and  his  con- 
victions of  duty,  which  caused  him  to  abandon  it.  Believing 
himself  to  be  called  by  the  Master  to  labor  in  His  spiritual  vine- 
yard, he  at  once  began  preparation  for  the  new  employment. 
In  the  autumn  of  1816,  three  years  after  graduation,  he  entered 


A   DISCOURSE    ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND.  181 

the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  Mass.  Professor  Moses 
Stuart  had  for  some  time  previous  occupied  the  chair  of  Sacred 
Literature  in  that  institution.  He  was  now  in  the  full  maturity 
of  his  powers,  though  not  yet  at  the  height  of  his  fame.  He 
had  already  commenced  that  reform  in  biblical  study  which  was 
to  constitute  the  most  important  work  of  his  life.  Casting  off 
the  shackles  of  a  dogmatic  theology,  and  freeing  himself  from 
the  trammels  of  immemorial  usage,  he  applied  the  same  rules  of 
interpretation  to  the  Scriptures  as  to  other  ancient  writings,  and 
accepted  the  unqualified  meaning  which  they  gave  him.  In  the 
preparation  of  his  courses  of  instruction  he  drew  largely  from 
new  and  hitherto  unopened  sources.  The  stores  of  German 
philology  and  criticism  were  unlocked  by  him,  and  made  avail- 
able for  the  first  time  to  the  American  student.  By  his  rare 
gifts  of  language  and  illustration,  by  the  novelty  and  boldness 
of  many  of  his  views,  and  by  the  ardor  with  which  he  pressed 
them,  and  more  especially  by  the  earnestness  and  eloquence  with 
which  he  vindicated  the  simple,  unadulterated  Word  of  God  as 
the  only  and  sufficient  rule  of  faith  and  practice,  he  kindled  in 
his  classes  an  enthusiasm  which  knew  no  bounds.  "  Some  of 
his  pupils,"  I  quote  the  words  of  one  of  them,  "  almost  looked 
upon  him  as  a  being  from  a  higher  world.  The  hour  when  they 
first  saw  him  was  a  kind  of  epoch  in  their  history." 

Under  this  great  master,  the  recently  awakened  powers  of 
the  medical  student  received  a  fresh  stimulus,  and  he  entered 
with  the  utmost  zeal  upon  his  new  field  of  study.  He  soon 
found  it  to  afford  scope  for  the  freest  and  most  expansive  exei"- 
cise  of  every  faculty.  Embodying  a  literature  of  great  variety 
and  richness,  containing  truths  the  grandest  and  the  most  mo- 
mentous  that   the   human  mind  ever  contemplated,  and   sup- 


182  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

ported  in  every  utterance  by  the  authority  of  inspiration,  the 
Bible,  studied  under  such  a  teacher,  became  incomparably  the 
most  interesting  of  all  books.  Grammar,  philology,  geography, 
and  history,  local  and  general,  were  in  turn  pressed  into  the 
service  of  developing  and  elucidating  its  meaning.  Every  day 
enlarged  the  field  of  his  mental  vision.  Every  week  brought 
with  it  a  conscious  increase  of  power.  Every  month  found  him 
with  a  deeper  knowledge  of  the  Word  of  God,  and  a  profounder 
reverence  for  its  teachings.  During  his  residence  at  Andover, 
he  learned  what,  if  he  had  accomplished  nothing  else,  would 
have  made  it  an  important  era  in  his  life :  he  learned  how  to 
study  and  how  to  teach  the  Bible  —  two  things  which  he  never 
afterwards  forgot.  I  have  listened  to  many  able  and  eloquent 
expounders  of  the  Scriptures  j  but  I  have  never  heard  any  one, 
who,  whether  in  pulpit  or  class-room,  unfolded  their  meaning 
with  so  great  naturalness,  simplicity,  and  power  as  President 
Wayland.  Few  of  the  pupils  of  Professor  Stuart  caught  more 
of  his  spirit,  and  none  of  them  in  after  life  cherished  for  the 
great  biblical  interpreter  a  profounder  respect  and  admiration. 

In  the  fall  of  1817,  after  a  year's  residence,  he  left  the  Theo- 
logical Seminary,  to  accept  a  tutorship  in  Union  College.  This 
new  position  introduced  him  to  relations  most  favorable  to 
growth  and  culture.  His  teaching  embraced  a  large  variety  of 
subjects.  It  was  not  confined  to  a  single  department,  but  ex- 
tended, at  different  times,  to  nearly  the  entire  college  course. 
In  the  academic  circle  he  was  brought  into  daily  intercourse 
with  minds  of  large  experience  and  rich  and  varied  culture,  at  a 
time  of  life  when  such  intercourse  is  most  improving.  It  was 
during  his  tutorship  that  he  first  really  knew  President  Nott, 
and  that  the  mutual  love,  respect,  and    admiration  was  awak- 


A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAY  LAND.  183 

ened  which  continued  to  grow  for  half  a  century.  The  four 
years  spent  in  these  happy  relations  he  ever  after  recalled  with 
the  liveliest  interest,  and  was  accustomed  to  speak  of  them  as 
the  most  important  in  his  life.  It  was  during  this  period  that 
his  character  especially  took  its  form  and  pressure,  and  that  he 
first  gave  assurance  of  the  brilliant  future  that  was  before  him. 

Although  chiefly  occupied  with  the  duties  of  instruction,  he 
continued  to  a  certain  extent  his  theological  studies  under  the 
immediate  direction  of  Dr.  Nott.  He  also  preached  occasion- 
ally in  the  neighboring  towns  and  villages.  In  August,  1821, 
he  received  ordination  and  accepted  the  pastoral  charge  of  the 
First  Baptist  Church  in  Boston.  The  advantage  of  his  long, 
varied,  and  thorough  training  preparatory  to  entering  upon  the 
field  of  labor  to  which  he  believed  himself  called,  became  at 
once  apparent.  His  sermons  from  the  commencement  showed 
marked  ability.  They  were  characterized  by  a  range  and  ele- 
vation of  thought,  an  eloquence  of  diction,  and  a  depth  and 
fervor  of  feeling,  which  raised  them  far  above  the  level  of  ordi- 
nary pulpit  discourses.  Soon  he  became  known  through  them 
to  the  public.  Hardly  had  two  years  elapsed,  when  his  elo- 
quent defense  of  missions  extended  widely  his  name  and  fame, 
and  gave  him  a  place  among  the  first  orators  of  the  land. 

Nor  did  he,  in  the  care  with  which  his  preparations  were 
made  for  the  pulpit,  forget  the  humbler  duties  of  the  pastor. 
He  was  much  among  his  people.  He  learned  their  characters 
and  circumstances.  He  put  himself  in  personal  relations  with 
them.  He  sought  occasions  and  opportunities  for  seeing  them 
and  pressing  upon  their  attention  the  obligations  and  duties  of 
religion,  ever  remembering  that  it  was  individual  souls  that  were 
to  be  saved ;  that  it  was  individual  human  souls,  and  not  con- 


184  A  DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND. 

gregations  of  men  and  women,  that  he  must  account  for  to  the 
Master.  Besides  the  direct  personal  influence  which  he  thus 
exerted,  he  was  enabled,  by  the  knowledge  of  character  gained, 
to  adapt  his  public  ministrations  more  perfectly  to  the  wants  of 
his  people.  It  was  a  maxim  with  him,  that  a  minister  who  per- 
forms with  fidelity  his  pastoral  duties  will  never  lack  for  sub- 
jects when  he  enters  the  pulpit. 

Mr.  Wayland  remained  with  the  church  in  Boston  five  years. 
In  the  autumn  of  1826  he  returned  to  Union  College,  having 
accepted  an  appointment  to  the  chair  of  mathematics  and  natu- 
ral philosophy.  His  stay  here  was  destined  to  be  but  of  short 
duration.  About  this  time  the  presidency  of  Brown  University 
became  vacant.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Messer,  who  had  held  that  office 
for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  who,  as  tutor,  professor, 
and  president,  had  given  to  the  institution  a  whole  life  of  hon- 
orable service,  beginning  to  feel  the  weight  of  years  press  upon 
him,  sent  in  his  resignation.  In  looking  for  a  successor,  the 
corporation  soon  turned  their  attention  to  Professor  Wayland, 
who,  during  the  brief  period  of  his  ministry,  had  established 
for  himself  the  reputation  of  a  profound  thinker  and  brilliant 
orator.  At  a  meeting  held  December  13,  1826,  he  was  unani- 
mously elected  to  fill  the  vacancy,  and  the  February  following 
he  entered  upon  his  presidential  duties.  He  was  now  in  the 
first  prime  of  life,  with  all  his  powers  in  their  full  vigor,  and 
with  a  work  before  him  of  sufficient  magnitude  to  suitably  task 
them. 

In  the  later  years  of  his  predecessor's  administration  the  dis- 
cipline of  the  college  became  relaxed,  and  the  spirit  of  study 
among  the  undergraduates  declined.  The  instruction  in  several 
of  the  departments  was  given  by  persons  having  other  occupa- 


A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  185 

tions,  who  saw  the  young  men  only  in  the  recitation  or  lecture 
room,  and  who  had  no  share  in  the  responsibilities  of  govern- 
ment. In  these  circumstances  a  disposition  to  license  had  shown 
itself,  which,  however  unfriendly  to  order  and  the  diligent  pur- 
suit of  learning,  the  authorities  found  it  difficult  to  suppress. 
The  necessity  of  reform  was  deemed  urgent  by  the  friends  of 
the  college.  This  may  be  inferred  from  a  resolution  passed  by 
the  corporation  at  the  same  meeting  at  which  the  election  took 
place,  declaring  "  it  to  be  the  duty  of  the  President  of  this  Uni- 
versity to  see  that  the  laws  are  executed,  and  that  the  officers 
of  instruction,  and  others  immediately  connected  with  the  insti- 
tution, do  their  duty."  At  a  subsequent  meeting  it  was  further 
resolved,  "  that  no  salary  or  other  compensation  be  paid  to  any 
professor,  tutor,  or  other  officer,  who  shall  not,  during  the  whole 
of  each  and  every  term,  occupy  a  room  in  one  of  the  colleges, 
and  assiduously  devote  himself  to  the  preservation  of  order  and 
the  instruction  of  the  students,  and  the  performance  of  such 
other  duty  as  may  belong  to  his  station." 

President  Wayland  proceeded  with  his  accustomed  prompti- 
tude and  energy  to  carry  out  the  important  reforms  indicated. 
In  doing  so  he  met,  as  was  to  be  expected,  with  opposition,  both 
without  and  within  the  college.  Ideas  long  entertained  were 
disturbed.  Immemorial  customs  were  rudely  jostled.  Time- 
honored  shelters,  under  which  mischief  had  found  protection, 
were  broken  down.  The  various  disguises  and  coverings  by 
which  indolence  had  contrived  to  make  itself  respectable  were 
plucked  off.  Diligent  application  to  study,  and  a  laudable  am- 
bition to  excel,  were  stimulated  by  new,  and,  as  was  claimed, 
invidious  honors.  The  traditions  of  the  college  were  unceremo- 
niously set  aside,  and  others,  from  a  foreign  source,  it  was  said, 


186  A  DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND. 

were  substituted  for  them.  It  is  not  in  human  nature  —  cer- 
tainly not  in  student  nature  —  tamely  to  suffer  encroachment 
upon  prescriptive  rights  and  privileges.  Angry  feelings  were 
aroused.  Indignant  protests  were  made  against  the  innovations. 
Soon  a  spirit  of  resistance  to  authority  manifested  itself  in  all 
the  protean  forms  which  ingenuity  could  devise,  and  the  circum- 
stances of  life  in  college  would  permit.  One  of  the  mildest  of 
these  modes  of  expressing  public  sentiment  was  delineation  on 
the  wall  of  the  halls,  and  the  lecture  rooms  when  these  could 
be  entered.  I  recall  a  spirited  sketch  executed  by  a  classmate, 
which  represented  very  well  the  prevailing  current  of  opinion 
and  criticism.  It  comprised  two  figures.  Dr.  Messer,  seated  in 
his  old  chaise,  with  reins  fallen,  and  whip  lost,  was  jogging  leis- 
urely on.  Directly  before  him  and  in  clear  view  lay  the  gulf  of 
perdition.  Near  by  was  Dr.  Wayland,  in  a  buggy  of  the  new- 
est fashion  harnessed  to  an  animal  on  whose  build  and  muscle 
two-forty  was  plainly  written.  He  was  headed  in  the  same 
direction,  and,  with  taut  rein  and  knitted  brow  and  kindling 
eye,  was  pressing  with  all  his  might  forward. 

But  the  students  soon  learned  with  whom  they  had  to  deal. 
Opposition  was  vain.  Remonstrance,  however  passionate,  proved 
useless.  Resistance  to  authority,  whatever  form  it  might  assume 
or  whatever  strength  it  might  acquire  from  combination,  availed 
nothing.  It  was  the  wave  dashed  against  the  rock,  only  to  be 
beaten  back  in  spray.  In  some  of  the  fiercer  assaults,  individ- 
uals were  thrown  in  the  recoil  to  so  great  a  distance  that  they 
never  found  their  way  back.  They  left  their  college  for  their 
college's  good.  The  greater  number  presently  became  reconciled 
to  the  new  order  of  things,  and  forgot  their  angry  feelings  in 
the  general  enthusiasm  for  study,  which  already  began  to  be 


A  DISCOURSE    ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  187 

awakened.  Before  a  twelve-month  had  passed,  all  were  con- 
scious of  new  impulses  and  higher  aspirations,  and  a  quickening 
and  invigoration  of  every  faculty,  from  the  wholesome  discipline 
to  which  they  were  subjected.  And  as  conscious  injustice  is  not 
a  vice  of  students,  those  who  had  been  the  most  bitter  in  their 
denunciations  were  now  the  loudest  in  their  praises.  The  pro- 
foundest  eulogiums  which  I  have  ever  heard  pronounced  upon 
President  Wayland  as  an  instructor  and  officer  of  government 
have  come  from  men  who  were  in  college  at  this  time,  and 
who  formed  their  estimate  from  the  character  and  ability  exhib- 
ited in  these  circumstances.  The  opposition  outside  of  the  col- 
lege continued  somewhat  longer ;  but  having  its  origin  for  the 
most  part  in  misconceptions,  it,  too,  soon  passed  away. 

Having  placed  the  government  and  discipline  of  the  Univer- 
sity on  a  satisfactory  footing.  President  Wayland  next  sought  to 
improve  the  instruction  and  raise  the  standard  of  scholarship 
and  character.  The  use  of  books,  except  in  the  languages,  was 
prohibited  in  the  recitation  room.  The  lessons  assigned  were 
required  to  be  mastered,  by  both  teacher  and  pupil,  before  en- 
tering it,  so  that  the  topics  embraced  might  be  freely  and  fully 
discussed  by  them.  The  pupil  was  expected  to  do  something 
more  than  answer  questions,  or  repeat  the  words  of  the  text- 
book, or  recite  in  their  order  the  successive  paragraphs.  He 
was  required  to  give,  as  far  as  he  might  be  able,  in  his  own 
language,  the  course  of  argument,  or  the  train  of  thought ;  to 
separate  it  into  its  component  parts  ;  to  distinguish  the  principal 
from  the  subordinate,  the  essential  from  the  accidental,  the  sub- 
stance from  the  form ;  in  a  word,  to  discriminate  sharply  be- 
tween the  important  and  the  unimportant  in  each  paragraph, 
section,  and  chapter,  and  to  present  the  former  divested  of  tho 
latter,  with  a  due  regard  to  order  and  connection. 


188  A  DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND. 

This  mode  of  conducting  recitations  proved,  in  the  hands  of 
able  and  skillful  teachers,  a  most  efficient  means  of  culture. 
Besides  bringing  into  constant  activity  some  of  the  most  impor- 
tant faculties,  it  accustomed  the  mind  to  processes  presupposed 
in  all  good  writing  or  effective  thinking.  It  also  tended  strongly 
to  break  up  that  pernicious  habit  of  mere  word-learning,  which 
from  the  training  of  boyhood  so  many  bring  with  them  to  col- 
lege. The  effect  was  soon  apparent  in  a  larger  intellectual 
growth  and  in  a  more  manly  character.  Judge  Story,  when  pro- 
fessor in  the  Cambridge  Law  School,  was  accustomed  to  say,  as 
I  have  been  informed,  that  he  could  distinguish  a  graduate  from 
Brown  University  by  his  power  of  seizing  upon  the  essential 
points  of  a  case  and  freeing  it  from  all  extraneous  matters. 

This  new  mode  of  teaching  introduced  by  President  Wayland 
was  known  in  college  at  the  time  as  the  analytic  method.  The 
student  was  said  to  recite  by  analysis.  As  in  the  case  of  all 
other  modes  of  instruction,  its  success  depended  greatly  upon 
the  character  of  the  teacher.  With  incompetence  in  the  chair, 
or  stupidity  behind  the  desk,  it  was  liable  to  degenerate  into  an 
unmeaning  and  worthless  formalism.  I  recall  an  extreme  case. 
A  graduate,  who  had  left  the  institution  a  short  time  previous 
to  engage  in  the  business  of  instruction,  called  upon  me,  partly, 
I  suppose,  for  sympathy,  and  partly  to  afford  me  the  pleasure  of 
knowing  how  admirably  he  was  succeeding  in  his  new  employ- 
ment. He  had  adopted  fully,  he  informed  me,  the  university 
methods.  He  taught  everything  by  analysis.  As  I  had  had 
the  honor  of  instructing  him  in  geometry,  he  drew  his  illustra- 
tions from  that  study.  He  made  his  pupils,  he  said,  commence 
at  the  beginning  of  each  book,  and  repeat  the  propositions  in 
their  order  to  the  end ;  and  then  commence  at  the  end  and  re- 


A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND.  189 

peat  them  backwards  to  the  beginning.  He  particularly  asked 
my  attention  to  the  latter  exercise  as  an  extension  of  the  prin- 
ciple of  analysis  and  an  actual  improvement  upon  the  teaching 
in  college. 

The  prevalence  of  a  higher  spirit  and  better  methods  of  study 
prepared  the  way  for  extending  the  established  courses  of  in- 
struction, and  also  for  introducing  new  courses.  Advantage  was 
taken  of  the  openings  thus  made,  as  fast  as  the  means  of  the 
institution  would  permit.  The  French  language,  in  which  in- 
struction had  not  previously  been  given,  was  first  made  a  part 
of  the  curriculum.  Afterwards  the  German  was  introduced  as 
an  elective  study.  Courses  were  also  established  in  political 
economy,  in  history,  and  in  several  of  the  physical  sciences.  The 
means  of  instruction  were  at  the  same  time  greatly  enlarged,  in 
the  form  of  apparatus,  books,  specimens,  maps,  models,  and 
other  aids  of  a  similar  character.  The  fruit  of  these  augmented 
resources  of  the  university  was  seen  in  larger  acquisitions  and  in 
a  more  varied  and  richer  culture. 

To  reach  the  characters  and  quicken  the  moral  impulses  of 
the  young  men,  President  Wayland  availed  himself  of  every 
channel  that  was  open  to  him.  He  saw  them  often  in  pri- 
vate. His  usual  appellation  of  "  my  son,"  while  it  was  a  sim- 
ple expression  of  his  interest  in  them,  and  of  the  care  and 
responsibility  which  he  constantly  felt  for  their  welfare,  had 
the  effect  of  softening  the  severer  official  relation,  and  invest- 
ing with  something  of  a  paternal  character  his  suggestions  and 
counsels.  These  personal  conversations  were  always  most  sal- 
utary in  their  influence,  and  not  unfrequently  marked  an  epoch 
in  the  history  of  the  young  man,  from  which  his  life  took  a 
new  reckoning. 


190  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

He  attended  frequently,  and  during  periods  of  special  inter- 
est constantly,  the  religious  meetings  that  were  held  in  coUegeo 
Some  of  his  prayers  and  exhortations  at  these  meetings  will  be 
long  remembered.  Under  their  influence  the  light  of  a  new  life 
for  the  first  time  broke  upon  many  a  one  who  has  since  become 
himself  a  light  and  a  power  in  the  Christian  Church.  For  a 
long  series  of  years,  he  met  every  Sunday  evening  a  class  for 
the  study  of  the  Scriptures.  This  was  always  well,  and  at 
times,  numerously  attended.  Many  were  attracted  by  the  intel- 
lectual excitement  and  stimulus  which  it  afforded.  The  great 
doctrines  of  Christianity  were  unfolded  with  a  freshness,  beauty, 
and  power  which  made  them  seem  like  new  revelations.  Its 
practical  teachings  were  enforced  by  arguments  more  cogent, 
and  appeals  more  eloquent  and  thrilling,  than  any  to  which  I 
have  elsewhere  listened.  The  spell  of  the  senses  was  broken. 
The  mind  awoke  as  from  a  dream.  The  material  and  tangible 
melted  away  under  the  power  of  the  invisible.  This  world  be- 
came shadow,  and  the  other  world  substance.  Character,  char- 
acter, character  was  everything  ;  all  beside,  nothing.  With  the 
hope  of  influencing  larger  numbers.  President  Wayland,  at  a 
later  period,  substituted  for  the  Bible  class  preaching  in  the 
chapel  on  Sunday  afternoons.  To  this  change,  the  world  owes 
his  University  sermons.  They  were  delivered,  with  others  not 
published,  to  an  audience  made  up  partly  of  students  and  partly 
of  citizens.  They  are  unquestionably  among  his  ablest  and 
most  eloquent  productions.  They  were  listened  to  with  pro- 
found, and,  at  times,  thrilling  interest.  But  I  do  not  think 
their  moral  or  religious  effect  was  so  great  as  that  of  the  hum- 
bler service  whose  place  they  took. 

Another  channel  through  which  he  sought  to  reach  and  affect 


A   DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS  WAYLAND.  191 

character  was  the  daily  instructions  of  the  recitation  and  lecture 
room.  The  sciences  which  he  taught  —  intellectual  and  moral 
philosophy  —  were  peculiarly  favorable  to  this,  and  he  shaped 
his  courses  in  them  with  special  reference  to  it.  Little  time  was 
occupied  with  the  metaphysical  inquiries  which  underlie  and 
cluster  around  these  sciences.  Questions  of  a  merely  specula- 
tive interest,  having  no  practical  bearing,  were  quickly  disposed 
of.  Whether  the  mind  be  simple  or  complex,  whether  it  act  im- 
mediately or  through  faculties,  whether  its  knowledge  of  the  ex- 
ternal world  be  intuitive  or  representative,  what  force  is,  and  how 
originated,  whether  it  be  inherent  in  matter,  or  external  to  it  and 
only  exerted  upon  it,  whether  creation  was  a  completed  act  or 
the  first  moment  of  an  exertion  of  power  ever  since  continued, 
the  origin  of  moral  evil,  the  nature  of  right,  the  reconciliation 
of  human  accountability  with  the  divine  Sovereignty,  and  other 
similar  problems,  were  either  passed  by  altogether,  or  referred  to 
merely  in  indicating  the  bounds  of  possible  knowledge ;  or  they 
were  mentioned  as  illustrations  of  the  yearning  with  which  the 
mind,  shut  up  in  the  prison-house  of  the  senses,  reaches  out  to- 
wards the  illimitable  expanse  of  being  around  it,  or  were  pointed 
out  as  hopeless  inquiries  upon  which  the  highest  efforts  of  the 
most  gifted  intellects  of  the  race  have,  for  the  last  thirty  cen- 
turies, been  vainly  expended.  The  respective  spheres  and  of- 
fices of  the  different  mental  powers  or  faculties,  the  laws  by 
which  they  are  governed,  their  combined  action  in  the  higher 
intellectual  operations,  their  proper  use,  discipline,  and  culture, 
conscience,  obligation,  duty,  the  moral  law,  its  divine  sanction, 
the  consequences,  both  here  and  hereafter,  of  its  violation,  — 
these  were  the  themes  upon  which  he  discoursed  with  such  ear- 
nestness in  the  lecture-room,  and  which  are  presented  so  clearly 
and  so  forcibly  in  his  admirable  text-book. 


192  A  DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

But  President  Wayland  liked  the  concrete  better  than  the 
abstract.  He  preferred  to  consider  man  as  a  living,  thinking, 
acting  person,  rather  than  as  an  assemblage  of  powers  and  sen- 
sibilities. He  was  more  interested  in  studying  the  forms  of  in- 
tellectual and  moral  development  growing  out  of  the  varying 
activities  of  the  several  faculties,  than  in  the  study  of  the  facul- 
ties themselves.  His  mind  was  wonderfully  rich  in  conceptions 
of  character.  Ideals  of  commanding  power,  of  exalted  good- 
ness, of  sublime  virtue,  were  ever  floating  through  its  chambers 
of  imagery.  These  he  scattered  like  gems,  in  lavish  profusion, 
along  the  whole  pathway  of  his  instructions.  It  was  the  quick- 
ening, inspiring,  educating  power  of  these  that  was  most  felt 
by  his  pupils,  and  that  kindled  to  the  greatest  ardor  their  enthu- 
siasm. It  was  by  the  contemplation  of  these  chiefly  that  they 
were  so  "  inflamed  with  the  study  of  learning  and  the  admira- 
tion of  virtue ;  stirred  up  with  high  hopes  of  living  to  be  brave 
men  and  worthy  patriots,  dear  to  God,  and  famous  to  all  ages." 
It  was  these  ideals  which  they  especially  carried  from  the  halls 
of  the  University  out  into  the  world,  to  be  always  present  with 
them,  rebuking  indolence,  lifting  from  the  debasements  of 
mammon  and  sense,  and  soliciting  ever  to  a  higher  and  wor- 
thier life. 

Another  means  employed  by  President  Wayland  for  awaken- 
ing impulse,  and  correcting,  guiding,  and  elevating  public  senti- 
ment in  college,  was  addresses  from  the  platform  in  the  chapel. 
These  were  most  frequent  and  most  characteristic  in  the  earlier 
days  of  his  presidency.  They  occurred,  usually,  immediately 
after  evening  prayers,  and  took  the  place  of  the  undergraduate 
speaking,  which  at  that  time  formed  a  part  of  the  daily  college 
programme.     The  occasions  which  called  them  forth  were  some 


A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND.  193 

irregularity,  or  incident,  or  event,  which  seemed  to  render 
proper  the  application  of  the  moral  lever  to  raise  the  standard 
of  scholarship  or  character.  We  all  knew  very  well  when  to 
expect  them. 

As  the  students,  then,  with  few  exceptions,  lived  within 
the  college  buildings,  and  took  their  meals  in  Commons  Hall, 
they  constituted,  much  more  than  at  present,  a  community  by 
themselves.  They  were  more  readily  swayed  by  common  im- 
pulses, and  more  susceptible  of  common  emotions.  When  gath- 
ered in  the  chapel,  they  formed  a  unique,  but  remarkably 
homogeneous,  audience.  President  Wayland  was  at  that  time 
at  the  very  culmination  of  his  powers,  both  physical  and  intel- 
lectual. His  massive  and  stalwart  frame,  not  yet  filled  and 
rounded  by  the  accretions  of  later  years ;  his  strongly  marked 
features,  having  still  the  sharp  outlines  and  severe  grace  of 
their  first  chiseling ;  his  peerless  eye,  sending  from  beneath  that 
Olympian  brow  its  lordly  or  its  penetrating  glances,  he  seemed, 
as  he  stood  on  the  stage  in  that  old  chapel,  the  incarnation  of 
majesty  and  power.  He  was  raised  a  few  feet  above  his  audi- 
ence, and  so  near  to  them  that  those  most  remote  could  see  the 
play  of  every  feature.  He  commenced  speaking.  It  was  not 
instruction ;  it  was  not  argument ;  it  was  not  exhortation.  It 
was  a  mixture  of  wit  and  humor,  of  ridicule,  sarcasm,  pathos, 
and  fun,  of  passionate  remonstrance,  earnest  appeal,  and  solemn 
warning,  poured  forth  not  at  random,  but  with  a  knowledge  of 
the  laws  of  emotion  to  which  Lord  Kames  himself  could  have 
added  nothing.  The  effect  was  indescribable.  No  Athenian 
audience  ever  hung  more  tumultuously  on  the  lips  of  the  divine 
Demosthenes.  That  little  chapel  heaved  and  swelled  with  the 
mtensity  of  its  pent-up  forces.     The  billows  of  passion  rose  and 

18 


194  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

fell  like  the  waves  of  a  tempestuous  sea.  At  one  moment  all 
were  burning  with  indignation ;  the  next  they  were  melted  to 
tears.  Now  every  one  was  convulsed  with  laughter,  and  now  as 
solemn  as  if  the  revelations  of  doom  were  just  opening  upon 
him.  Emotions  the  most  diverse  followed  one  another  in  quick 
succession.  Admiration,  resentment,  awe,  and  worship  in  turn 
swelled  every  bosom.  At  length  the  storm  spent  itself.  The 
sky  cleared,  and  the  sun  shone  out  with  increased  brightness. 
The  ground  had  been  softened  and  fertilized,  and  the  whole  air 
purified. 

When  the  resources  of  appeal,  both  private  and  public,  had 
been  exhausted,  President  Wayland  did  not  hesitate  to  employ 
other  and  more  potent  means  for  maintaining  order,  good  gov- 
ernment, and  a  high  spirit  of  study.  He  was  a  vigorous  dis- 
ciplinarian. The  very  fullness  of  his  energies  disposed  him  to 
strong  measures  ;  and  he  may  sometimes  have  resorted  to  them 
when  milder  ones  would  have  succeeded.  In  treating  the  dis- 
eases of  youth,  especially  college  youth,  he  inclined  to  the  heroic 
practice.  He  did  not  believe  in  administering  remedies  in  ho- 
moeopathic doses.  He  aimed  not  at  a  mere  alleviation  of  the 
graver  symptoms  of  the  malady,  but  sought  its  radical  cure. 
Although  here  and  there  a  feeble  constitution  may  have  suf- 
fered under  this  vigorous  treatment,  by  far  the  greater  number 
were  vastly  benefited  by  it.  How  many  are  now  able  to  look 
back  to  good  habits  formed  and  manly  purposes  strengthened 
through  his  wholesome  discipline  ;  to  sterility  turned  into  fruit- 
fulness  by  the  subsoiling  received  at  his  hand. 

President  Wayland  identified  himself  in  a  remarkable  degree 
with  the  college.  That  was  always  his  first  interest.  To  that 
everything  else  was  subordinate.     For  that  he  gave  himself  to 


A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  195 

the  most  unwearied  and  unremitting  labors.  During  periods 
of  irritation  and  disturbance,  it  was  out  of  his  thoughts  neither 
night  nor  day.  When  there  were  grounds  for  apprehending 
mischief  or  any  moral  irregularity,  every  part  of  the  buildings 
was  subject  at  all  hours  to  his  visits.  He  was  especially  jealous, 
both  in  himself  and  in  those  associated  with  him,  of  any  other 
interest  that  might  ablactate,  to  use  his  own  strong  language, 
the  college.  All  labor,  all  time,  all  thought  must  be  given  to 
that.  His  ideas  of  professional  obligation  in  this  respect  were 
unusually  stern  and  exacting ;  but  as  he  illustrated  and  enforced 
them  by  his  constant  example,  they  became  the  ideas  of  his 
faculty.  Their  spirit  also  passed  by  a  sort  of  contagion  to  the 
undergraduates,  and  developed  in  them  a  more  earnest  and 
manly  type  of  character. 

Besides  this  high  sense  of  duty  evinced  by  him  in  everything 
which  he  did,  he  brought  to  the  work  of  teaching  a  noble  en- 
thusiasm. It  was  in  his  estimation  a  high  employment.  No 
other  surpassed  it  in  true  dignity  and  importance.  Of  no  other 
were  the  results  greater  or  more  beneficial.  The  boundless 
wealth  of  a  universe  was  the  birthright  of  mind  ;  but  only  by 
the  proper  training  of  its  faculties  was  it  enabled  to  enter  into 
possession  of  the  rich  heritage.  Education  was  one  of  the  plas- 
tic arts.  The  material  wrought  upon  was  finer  than  alabaster, 
more  enduring  than  brass  or  marble ;  capable  of  being  moulded 
into  forms  of  imposing  grandeur  or  bewitching  grace  or  sub- 
duing beauty.  He  who  worked  at  this  art  worked  not  for  time 
only,  but  for  eternity.  Receiving  a  spiritual  instead  of  a  ma- 
terial embodiment,  his  conceptions  became  immortal. 

These  inspiring  ideas  constantly  animated  his  zeal,  and  quick- 
ened to  the  highest  activity  every  faculty,  while  they  imparted 


196  A   DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

to  his  instructions  an  earnestness  and  fervor  which  neither  dull- 
ness nor  indifference  could  resist.  All  associated  with  him  in 
the  care  and  oversight  of  the  college  caught  something  of  his 
ardor,  and  put  forth  in  their  several  spheres  fresh  efforts  for  ad- 
vancing its  interests.  His  noble  conceptions  of  the  instructor's 
office  and  work,  carried  out  from  the  University  by  his  pupils, 
and  spread  still  more  widely  through  his  writings,  did  much  to 
raise  teaching  in  public  estimation,  through  all  its  grades,  to 
the  dignity  of  a  profession.  They  also  drew  upon  him  the  at- 
tention of  the  country,  and  placed  him,  by  universal  consent,  in 
the  first  rank  of  educators,  without  a  superior,  if  not  without  an 
equal,  in  the  land. 

In  1833,  six  years  after  coming  to  Providence,  Dr.  Wayland 
published  his  first  volume  of  discourses.  This  included  his  two 
sermons  on  the  "  Duties  of  an  American  Citizen,"  so  widely 
read  and  so  justly  admired  when  first  given  to  the  public ;  his 
famous  sermon  on  the  "  Moral  Dignity  of  the  Missionary  Enter- 
prise," numerous  editions  of  which  had  already  gone  out,  bear- 
ing his  name  wherever  the  English  language  was  spoken  ;  and 
also  his  discourse  on  the  "  Philosophy  of  Analogy,"  delivered 
before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  of  Rhode  Island  on  its  first 
anniversary.  The  last,  although  of  a  less  popular  character 
than  the  others,  is  remarkable  for  a  rare  felicity  of  conception 
and  treatment,  for  the  fine  vein  of  original  thought  which  runs 
through  it,  for  the  grace  and  beauty  of  its  illustrations,  and  for 
the  classic  finish  of  its  style.  It  is  pervaded  throughout  by  a 
highly  philosophic  spirit,  and  contains  passages  of  the  loftiest 
eloquence. 

In  1835,  two  years  later,  his  work  on  Moral  Science  ap- 
peared.    This  was  succeeded  in  1837  by  his  Political  Economy, 


A   DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  19V 

while  his  Intellectual  Philosophy  was  delayed  till  1854.  These 
works  were  especially  designed  for  text-books,  and  embody  sub- 
stantially the  instructions  which  he  had  previously  given  to  his 
classes  by  lecture.  They  do  not  claim  to  be  complete  and  ex- 
haustive treatises  on  the  sciences  to  which  they  relate,  but  only 
to  present  so  much  and  such  portions  of  these  sciences  as  may 
properly  find  a  place  in  the  collegiate  course.  While  sufficiently 
elementary  to  meet  the  wants  of  the  ordinary  student,  they  dis- 
cuss with  great  ability  some  of  the  highest  and  most  difficult 
problems  which  human  nature  and  society  present.  Their  style 
is  purely  didactic,  direct,  simple,  and  perspicuous,  but  without 
ornament.  They  are  books  to  be  studied  rather  than  to  be 
read.  But  instructive  and  admirable  as  they  are,  they  give  but 
a  faint  idea  of  the  marvelous  interest  with  which  the  same 
truths  were  invested  when  unfolded  and  illustrated  by  the  living 
teacher  under  the  inspiration  of  the  class-room.  The  appear- 
ance of  the  Moral  Science  was  opportune.  The  need  of  such  a 
work  had  long  been  felt.  It  was  almost  immediately  adopted 
by  a  large  number  of  the  colleges,  academies,  and  high  schools 
of  the  country ;  and  although  thirty  years  have  since  elapsed,  it 
still  holds  its  place  in  them  with  hardly  a  rival.  The  use  of  the 
Political  Economy  and  Intellectual  Philosophy,  though  quite 
extensive,  has,  I  think,  been  less  general. 

While  thus  indefatigably  laboring  within  the  walls  of  the 
University,  President  Wayland  was  continually  called  upon  to 
render  various  and  important  public  services.  There  was  hardly 
an  association  in  the  country,  whether  for  educational,  philan- 
thropic, or  religious  objects,  of  which  he  was  not  a  member, 
and  which  did  not  look  to  him  for  advocacy,  counsel,  and  sup- 
port.    To  the  cause  of  Christian  missions,  which  was  ever  dear 


198  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND. 

to  him,  he  gave  more  than  the  service  of  an  ordinary  life.  His 
commanding  eloquence,  and  the  great  weight  of  his  opinions, 
caused  him  to  be  in  constant  requisition  as  a  public  speaker. 
His  orations  and  other  occasional  discourses,  all  productions  of 
marked  ability,  and  many  of  them  models  of  the  species  of  lit- 
erature to  which  they  belong,  would,  if  collected,  swell  into  vol- 
umes. By  these  outside  labors  he  greatly  extended,  not  only 
his  own  fame,  but  that  of  the  institution  over  which  he  pre- 
sided ;  securing  for  it  a  rank  and  position  not  previously  en- 
joyed, and  attracting  young  men  in  larger  numbers  to  its 
courses.  Under  his  fostering  care  all  its  resources  were  greatly 
augmented,  and  its  interests,  external  as  well  as  internal,  ad- 
vanced. On  coming  to  Providence,  he  found  the  college  with 
three  professors,  the  president  not  included ;  he  left  it  with 
eight.  He  found  it  with  scarcely  a  hundred  students  ;  he  left 
it  with  more  than  two  hundred.  He  found  it  with  its  courses 
of  study  quite  elementary  and  limited  ;  he  left  it  with  these 
courses  greatly  enlarged  and  extended.  He  found  it  without 
either  a  library  or  a  philosophical  apparatus  deserving  the 
name,  and  without  buildings  for  their  accommodation;  he  left 
it  well  cared  for  in  respect  to  all  these  essential  endowments  of 
an  institution  of  learning. 

In  effecting  these  great  changes,  Dr.  Wayland  had  the  ben- 
efit of  able  and  efficient  coadjutors.  The  scholarly  Elton,  who, 
at  the  time  of  his  entering  upon  his  presidential  duties,  was 
abroad,  gathering  inspiration  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Par- 
thenon and  among  the  columns  of  the  Forum,  returned  home 
soon  afterwards  to  commence  his  courses  of  instruction  enriched 
from  the  garnered  stores  of  ancient  learning.  The  genial  and 
classic  Goddard,  whose  appointment  to  a  professor's  chair  was 


A   DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  199 

of  a  somewhat  earlier  date,  rendered  to  the  University,  during 
the  period  of  his  connection  with  it,  most  valuable  services.  Bj 
infusing  something  of  his  own  exquisite  taste  and  love  of  ele- 
gant letters  into  the  minds  of  undergraduates,  as  well  as  by  the 
models  of  a  graceful  and  finished  style  which  he  set  before 
them,  he  greatly  elevated  the  standard  of  excellence  in  compo- 
sition, and  gave  to  rhetorical  training,  as  a  part  of  a  liberal  edu- 
cation, that  deserved  prominence  in  the  college  course  which  it 
has  ever  since  held.  Of  almost  equal  value  was  the  sound  prac- 
tical sense  which  he  brought  to  every  question  of  discipline  and 
government.  To  the  aid  of  his  rare  wisdom  in  the  counsels  of 
the  faculty,  Dr.  Wayland  was  always  prompt  to  acknowledge 
his  large  indebtedness.  And  after  the  retirement  of  Professor 
Goddard  from  the  duties  of  instruction,  he  upon  whom  the 
mantle  of  seniority  fell,  to  whom  I  owe  so  much,  to  whom  a 
whole  generation  of  pupils  owes  so  much,  as  an  able  and  faith- 
ful teacher  and  a  wise  counselor  and  friend,  —  would  that  I 
might  speak  of  him  as  my  heart  prompts ;  but  such  words  are 
not  permitted  now  ;  they  would  seem  too  much  like  personal 
adulation  ;  they  must  be  reserved  for  another,  and,  I  trust,  far 
distant  occasion,  —  he  upon  whom  the  mantle  of  seniority  so 
worthily  fell,  the  honored  and  beloved  Caswell,  for  a  period  of 
nearly  thirty  years  brought  to  the  administration  of  President 
Wayland  his  undivided  strength  and  his  large  influence.  Other 
and  younger  officers  of  instruction  and  government  cooperated 
in  advancing  the  interests  of  the  institution,  if  not  with  equal 
ability,  with  equal  zeal  and  equal  singleness  of  purpose.  One 
of  these,  too  early  withdrawn  from  academic  labors  —  much  too 
early  for  his  associates  and  for  the  interests  of  the  University 
—  by  the  attractions  of  "  learned  leisure  "  and  the  "  still  air  of 


200  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

delightful  studies  "  rendered  an  uninterrupted  service  of  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  century,  whose  value  and  importance  can 
hardly  be  estimated  too  highly.  A  pupil  of  President  Way- 
land,  and  recipient  of  the  choicest  benefits  of  his  unequaled 
training,  growing  from  youth  up  to  ripe  manhood  under  his  im- 
mediate eye  and  influence,  possessing  many  of  the  rare  qualities 
which  fitted  him  so  preeminently  for  the  instructor's  office,  in- 
spired by  the  same  ardor  and  the  same  spirit  of  untiring  and 
unsparing  devotion  to  the  high  duties  imposed  by  it,  he  made 
his  mark  upon  the  successive  classes  as  they  passed  under  him, 
beside  the  ever  -  during  impressions  received  from  the  great 
master. 

Aid  of  a  different  kind,  but  no  less  important,  came  from 
without.  Soon  after  the  accession  of  Dr.  Wayland  to  the  pres- 
idency, a  spirit  of  greater  liberality  began  to  prevail  in  the 
community,  and  juster  ideas  were  entertained  of  the  claims  of 
institutions  of  learning  upon  the  benefactions  of  the  citizens. 
As  a  consequence  of  this,  contributions,  some  of  them  large  in 
amount,  flowed  from  time  to  time  into  the  treasury.  Buildings, 
the  need  of  which  had  long  been  felt,  were  erected.  New  and 
improved  apparatus  was  provided.  Additional  professors  were 
appointed,  and  the  courses  and  means  of  instruction  in  nearly 
every  department  were  greatly  enlarged.  The  names  of  Brown 
and  Ives,  ever  memorable  in  the  history  of  the  University,  recall 
a  succession  of  benefits  and  services,  transcending  in  value  even 
the  munificent  endowments  with  which  they  are  indissolubly 
associated.  To  the  wise  and  thoughtful  care,  to  the  almost  pa- 
rental interest  and  affection,  with  which  the  bearers  of  these 
honored  names  have  ever  watched  over  the  institution,  provid- 
ing often  from  their  own  private  resources  for  its  more  pressing 


A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND.  201 

wants,  and  encouraging  constantly  by  their  sympathies  all  who 
were  laboring  for  it,  is  to  be  ascribed,  in  no  small  degree,  its 
measure  of  prosperity  and  success. 

Reference  to  these  important  and  cooperative  agencies  was 
demanded  by  the  truth  of  history.  They  are  not  to  be  consid- 
ered as  detracting  at  all  from  the'  claims  of  President  Wayland. 
Clustering  about  his  administration,  they  confer  upon  it  addi- 
tional lustre.  No  man  can  be  great  nor  can  accomplish  anything 
great  alone.  It  is  in  that  superior  wisdom,  and  that  ascendency 
and  force  of  character,  which  enable  the  master  spirits  of  the 
race  to  impress  themselves  upon  their  age,  —  to  mould  and 
shape  the  minds  of  other  men,  and  to  draw  them  into  their  own 
lines  of  thought  and  action,  —  that  we  recognize  the  highest 
form  of  power. 

It  had  long  been  the  desire  of  President  Wayland  to  make 
the  advantages  of  the  college  more  generally  available,  and  es- 
pecially to  adapt  its  courses  in  a  greater  degree  to  the  wants  of 
the  manufacturing  and  mercantile  classes.  Such  a  change  in 
our  educational  system,  he  thought,  was  demanded  by  the  in- 
creasing numbers  and  growing  importance  and  influence  of 
these  classes.  It  was  also  demanded  by  the  character  and  cir- 
cumstances of  our  country,  whose  material  developments  were 
destined  to  be  magnificent  beyond  anything  which  the  world 
had  ever  seen.  He  thought  it  the  duty  of  colleges,  as  the 
guardians  and  dispensers  of  the  benefactions  intrusted  to  them 
for  the  good  of  the  community,  to  heed  this  demand  of  the 
times,  and  make  the  changes  necessary  for  meeting  it.  Unless 
they  did  so,  they  would  lose  their  hold  upon  the  pubHc,  and 
fail  to  accomplish,  in  full  measure,  the  beneficent  ends  for  v/hich 
they  were  founded.     He  also  ventured  to  imagine  that  knowl- 


202  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

edge  having  practical  applications  might  be  made  as  valuable 
a  means  of  culture  as  studies  lying  more  remote  from  human 
interests,  and  recommended  especially  by  what  has  been  denom- 
inated their  "  glorious  inutility." 

These  views  commending  themselves  to  the  corporation  and 
friends  of  the  college  generally,  an  effort  was  made  in  1850  to 
provide  the  means  necessary  for  their  adoption.  Through  the 
liberality  and  public  spirit  of  the  citizens,  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  were  raised  and  paid  into  the  treas- 
ury. This  sum,  though  highly  honorable  to  the  donors,  was 
quite  insufficient  for  the  institution  of  independent  courses  of 
instruction,  with  separate  classes,  on  the  extended  plan  contem- 
plated. The  best  that  could  be  done  was  to  substitute  for  these 
inter-dependent  courses,  with  classes  more  or  less  mixed.  Such 
an  organization  of  the  University,  though  not  free  from  objec- 
tions, would  have  the  advantage  of  throwing  it  open  most 
widely  to  the  public.  It  was  accordingly  adopted.  The  change 
was  almost  immediately  followed  by  a  large  increase  in  the  num- 
ber of  students.  The  attendance  upon  some  of  the  courses  was 
nearly  doubled.  Many  who  had  previously  been  excluded  from 
the  benefit  of  an  academic  training  gladly  embraced  the  oppor- 
tunity now  offered  for  obtaining  it.  An  unusually  large  pro- 
portion of  these  were  young  men  of  ability  and  character,  who 
have  since  risen  to  distinction  in  their  several  avocations.  But 
notwithstanding  this  apparent  and  real  success  of  the  new  sys- 
tem, as  the  altered  arrangements  were  termed,  I  do  not  think 
that  the  expectations  of  President  Wayland  were  fully  realized. 
This  was  owing  mainly  to  defects  of  organization  which  the 
command  of  larger  means  could  alone  have  remedied.  The 
fundamental  idea  was  just  and  important.     The  want  felt  and 


A  DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  203 

indicated  was  a  real  one.  It  has  since  been  recognized  by  the 
other  colleges  of  the  country,  a  large  number  of  which  have 
made  provision  in  one  form  or  other  for  supplying  it.  In  a 
neighboring  state,  two  institutions  —  both  largely  endowed,  and 
embracing  numerous  departments  of  instruction  —  have  just 
been  established  for  the  sole  purpose  of  furnishing  a  suitable 
education  and  training  to  the  industrial  and  commercial  classes. 
The  recent  examples  of  a  noble  munificence  by  several  of  our 
wealthy  and  honored  citizens  afford  ground  for  the  hope  that, 
under  more  favorable  conditions,  the  broad  and  catholic  design 
of  President  Wayland  may  yet  be  carried  out  among  us  on  a 
plan  even  more  extended  and  comprehensive  than  he  in  his  most 
ardent  moments  dared  to  conceive  ;  that  our  neighbors  of  Mas- 
sachusetts and  Connecticut  w411  not  for  a  long  time  be  permitted 
to  appropriate  to  themselves  the  exclusive  benefit  of  ideas  orig- 
inated here,  and  finding  in  our  compact  communities  of  highly 
intelligent  manufacturers  and  merchants  so  appropriate  a  field 
for  their  application. 

In  the  summer  of  1855,  wishing  to  devote  himself  more  ex- 
clusively to  the  pursuit  of  literature  and  to  labors  of  benev- 
olence, Dr.  Wayland  retired  from  the  University  over  which  he 
had  so  long  and  so  ably  presided.  Sol  occidet ;  sed  nulla  nox 
miccedet. 

We  should  form  but  an  inadequate  idea  of  the  pubUc  services 
of  our  venerated  friend  and  instructor,  if  we  omitted  to  con- 
sider what  he  did  for  the  city  of  Providence  and  the  State  of 
Rhode  Island.  Had  he  been  a  native  born  son,  he  could  not 
have  identified  himself  more  perfectly  with  all  their  interests. 
Ancestral  associations  from  the  time  of  Roger  Williams  down- 
wards could  have  added  nothing  to  his  pride  in  their  fair  fame. 


204  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND. 

When  he  first  came  to  Providence,  it  ^s  just  passing  from  the 
dimensions  of  a  thriving  town  to  the  larger  proportions  of  a 
wealthy  and  prosperous  city.  While  it  was  in  this  transition 
state  so  favorable  to  the  reception  of  formative  influences,  he 
threw  himself  without  reserve  into  its  institutions,  educational, 
benevolent,  and  religious.  In  his  wise  care  and  forethought 
many  of  these  had  their  origin,  while  all  were  moulded  to  a 
greater  or  less  extent  under  the  influence  of  his  efforts  and 
counsels.  In  every  enterprise  of  public  spirit,  in  every  plan  for 
social  improvement,  in  every  effort  at  moral  reform,  in  every 
labor  for  ameliorating  the  condition  of  the  unfortunate,  from 
whatever  cause,  the  citizens  habitually  looked  to  him  as  their 
leader.  On  all  occasions  of  public  interest,  it  was  his  views  that 
were  most  sought ;  it  was  the  opinions  expressed  by  him  that 
had  the  greatest  influence. 

The  charities  of  the  city  and  state,  the  humbler  as  well  as 
the  nobler,  found  in  him  not  only  an  earnest  advocate,  but,  in 
proportion  to  his  means,  a  most  liberal  contributor.  To  some 
of  the  more  important  of  these  he  gave  largely  of  his  time. 
He  was  a  trustee  and  frequent  visitor  of  the  Butler  Asylum  for 
the  Insane,  from  its  foundation  down  to  near  the  close  of  his 
life.  He  was  for  many  years  one  of  the  inspectors  of  the  State 
Prison.  At  his  suggestion  and  through  his  influence,  mainly, 
important  changes  were  introduced,  which  greatly  improved  the 
condition,  both  physical  and  moral,  of  its  inmates.  From  a 
mere  place  of  confinement,  it  was  converted  into  a  well-ordered 
disciplinary  institution.  Previously  its  maintenance  had  been  a 
heavy  expense  to  the  State.  It  now  became,  through  its  work- 
shops, a  source  of  no  inconsiderable  revenue.  During  a  large 
part  of  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life,  he  conducted  every  week 


A   DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND. 


205 


a  Bible-class  composed  of  convicts.  The  spectacle  presented  was 
most  impressive,  one  which  angels  might  desire  to  look  upon, 
as  with  heart  full  of  love  to  God  and  man,  and  thought  intent 
on  serving  one  and  doing  good  to  the  other,  he  took  his  way  on 
the  quiet  Sabbath  morning  towards  yonder  prison,  to  seek  there 
the  outcasts  from  society,  the  children  of  shame  and  sin  and 
crime,  to  gather  them  around  him,  and  to  tell  them  in  language 
of  indescribable  simplicity  and  tenderness  of  a  Saviour  who 
loves  them  and  who  has  died  for  them ;  of  an  atonement  so 
large  and  so  free  that  each  one  of  them,  however  guilty,  may 
have  pardon  and  cleansing ;  to  lift  them,  by  his  broad  overflow- 
ing sympathies,  from  their  sense  of  forsakenness  and  isolation  ; 
to  kindle  repentings  within  them  ;  to  awaken  anew  their  moral 
affections  ;  and  to  restore  their  broken  relations  to  humanity, 
to  God,  and  to  Heaven.  He  may  have  done  many  things  of 
which  the  world  will  think  more  and  longer,  but  his  great  life 
offers  nothing  surpassing  in  moral  grandeur  these  almost  di- 
vine labors. 

The  poor  everywhere  found  in  Dr.  Wayland  a  friend  and 
helper.  He  was  known  to  a  very  large  number  of  this  class 
through  his  private  benefactions.  He  was  continually  sought 
by  persons  of  all  classes  for  his  advice,  his  counsel,  and  his 
sympathy.  He  probably  held  more  numerous  personal  relations 
than  any  other  man  in  the  city.  Every  one  of  these  he  made 
the  channel  of  some  species  of  benefit.  The  nobleness  of  his 
nature  was  manifested  no  less  strikingly  in  the  ordinary  walks 
of  daily  life,  than  in  the  more  prominent  and  public  situations 
to  which  he  was  called.  In  heroic  and  self-denying  labors,  in 
unceasing  care  and  thought  for  the  public  good,  in  largeness  of 
views  and  in  breadth  of  interests  and  sympathy,  in  weight  of 


206  A    DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAY  LAND. 

character  and  influence,  in  intellectual  resources  and  power,  and 
in  all  the  elements  of  moral  greatness,  he  was  by  universal  con- 
sent the  foremost  citizen  of  Rhode  Island.  JSfec  viget  quic- 
quam,  simile  aut  secundum. 

,  A  few  months  before  his  death,  an  occasion  arose  for  a 
touching  exhibition  of  the  respect  in  which  he  was  held  by  the 
whole  community.  The  country  had  in  an  instant  been  plunged 
from  the  height  of  joy  into  the  deepest  mourning.  Its  honored 
and  beloved  chief  magistrate,  at  the  moment  when  he  was  most 
honored  and  most  beloved,  had  fallen  by  parricidal  hand.  The 
greatness  of  the  loss,  the  enormity  of  the  crime,  and  the  terri- 
ble suddenness  of  the  blow,  bewildered  thought  and  paralyzed 
speech.  It  seemed  as  if  Providence,  which  had  just  vouchsafed 
so  great  blessings,  was,  from  some  inscrutable  cause,  withdraw- 
ing its  protective  care.  In  this  hour  of  darkness,  to  whom 
should  the  citizens  go  but  to  him  who  had  so  often  instructed 
and  guided  them  ?  As  evening  draws  on,  they  gather  from  all 
quarters,  and  with  one  common  impulse  turn  their  steps  east- 
ward. Beneath  a  weeping  sky,  the  long  dark  column  winds 
its  way  over  the  hill  and  into  the  valley.  As  it  moves  onward, 
the  wailings  of  the  dirge  and  the  measured  tread  are  the  only 
sounds  which  fall  upon  the  still  air.  Having  reached  the  resi- 
dence of  President  Wayland,  it  pours  itself  in  a  dense  throng 
around  a  slightly  raised  platform  in  front  of  it.  Presently  he 
appears,  to  address  for  the  last  time,  as  it  proves,  his  assembled 
fellow-citizens.  It  is  the  same  noble  presence  that  many  there 
had  in  years  long  gone  by  gazed  upon  with  such  pride  and  ad- 
miration from  seats  in  the  old  chapel.  It  is  the  same  voice 
whose  eloquence  then  so  inflamed  them,  and  stirred  their  young 
bosoms  to  such  a  tumult  of  passion.     The  speaker  is  the  same  ; 


A  DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  207 

the  audience  is  the  same.  But  how  changed  both  !  and  how  al- 
tered the  circumstances !  That  hair  playing  in  the  breeze  has 
been  whitened  by  the  snows  of  seventy  winters.  That  venera- 
ble form  is  pressed  by  their  accumulated  weight.  The  glorious 
intellectual  power  which  sat  upon  those  features  is  veiled  be- 
neath the  softer  lines  of  moral  grace  and  beauty.  It  is  not  now 
the  Athenian  orator,  but  one  of  the  old  prophets,  from  whose 
touched  lips  flow  forth  the  teachings  of  inspired  wisdom.  The 
dead  first  claims  his  thought.  He  recounts  most  appreciatively 
his  great  services,  and  dwells  with  loving  eulogy  upon  his  un- 
swerving patriotism  and  his  high  civic  virtues.  Next  the  duties 
of  the  living  and  the  lessons  of  the  hour  occupy  attention. 
Then  come  words  of  devout  thanksgiving,  of  holy  trust,  of  sub- 
lime faith,  uttered  as  he  only  ever  uttered  them.  They  fall 
upon  that  waiting  assembly  like  a  blessed  benediction,  assuaging 
grief,  dispelHng  gloom,  and  kindling  worship  in  every  bosom. 
God  is  no  longer  at  a  distance,  but  all  around  and  within  them. 
They  go  away  strengthened  and  comforted. 

Notwithstanding  the  multiplicity  of  his  labors,  President 
Wayland  found  leisure  for  much  reading.  I  have  known  few 
men  who  would  absorb  the  contents  of  a  book  in  so  brief  a 
space  of  time.  Turning  over  its  pages,  he  took  in  at  a  glance 
their  import  and  meaning ;  and  so  tenacious  was  his  memory, 
that  what  he  had  thus  rapidly  gathered  he  rarely  if  ever  forgot. 
In  his  selection  of  books,  he  was  determined  more  by  what  in- 
terested him,  than  by  any  deliberately  formed  plan  of  study. 
As  his  interests  were  broad,  his  reading  embraced  an  unusually 
large  variety  of  subjects.  Travels,  biographies,  history,  science, 
art,  and  literature  furnished  the  ample  materials  from  which 
his  mind,  by  a  sort  of  elective  af&nity,  amassed  its  wealth  of 
knowledge. 


208  A   DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

As  might  be  expected,  from  the  manner  in  which  they  were 
made,  his  acquisitions  were  characterized  rather  by  breadth  and 
comprehension  than  by  minute  accuracy  of  detail  or  systematic 
thoroughness.  He  was  not  a  learned  man  in  the  proper  sense 
of  that  term.  There  was  perhaps  no  subject  which  others  had 
not  studied  more  exhaustively  than  he.  But  the  field  which  he 
had  explored  was  wide,  and  his  gatherings  from  it  were  large. 
It  has  not  been  my  fortune  to  become  acquainted  with  any  man 
who  had,  stored  away  in  a  capacious  memory,  more  that  one 
would  desire  to  know,  or  less,  I  may  add,  that  was  not  worth 
knowing. 

Another  consequence  of  his  habit  of  varied  and  somewhat 
discursive  reading  was  the  absence  of  any  controlling  order  or 
system  in  his  acquisitions.  The  separate  facts,  instead  of  being 
connected  by  formal  relations,  lay  in  his  mind  in  associations 
determined  very  much  by  his  own  individual  tastes,  interests, 
and  habits  of  thought.  It  was  this  subjective  grouping,  this 
mental  assimilation  of  the  materials  of  his  knowledge,  that  im- 
parted to  it  such  vitality,  and  made  it  not  so  much  a  possession 
as  a  part  of  himself,  —  which  gave  to  his  ideas  on  the  most  or- 
dinary subjects  the  freshness  and  force  of  originality. 

In  early  life  he  was  a  diligent  student  of  Johnson.  The  vig- 
orous thought,  stately  periods,  and  brilliant  antitheses  of  the 
great  English  moralist  awakened  his  youthful  admiration,  and 
exerted  a  marked  influence  upon  his  style.  Later  both  his  taste 
and  his  manner  of  writing  became  more  simple.  At  all  periods 
of  his  life  the  Bible  was  his  constant  companion.  From  that 
he  drew  inspiration.  Through  that  he  entered  into  a  deeper 
knowledge  of  the  character  of  God,  and  the  nature  of  man. 
Daily  and  hourly  he  drank  in  wisdom  from  it.     After  Shake- 


A  DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  209 

speare,  Milton  and  Cowper  were  his  favorite  poets.  Of  the 
writers  of  romance  he  preferred  Scott.  His  graphic  descriptions 
of  scenery  and  his  life-like  delineations  of  character,  as  well  as 
the  historic  element  which  pervades  his  writings,  raised  them,  in 
his  estimation,  quite  above  the  pages  of  mere  fiction.  He  had 
a  quick  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and  enjoyed  with  a  keen  zest  the 
whimsical  fancies  of  Hood,  the  delicate  humor  of  Irving,  and 
the  broader  comic  scenes  of  Dickens. 

In  that  struggle  which  is  ever  going  forward  between  the  re- 
tiring and  the  coming  under  the  banners  of  conservatism  and 
progress ;  in  that  ceaseless  war  which,  from  the  very  elements  of 
human  character  and  condition,  must  be  waged  in  one  form  or 
another  between  the  past  and  the  future,  on  the  battle-ground 
of  the  present.  Dr.  Wayland  was  always  found,  no  less  in  his 
later  than  in  his  earlier  years,  in  the  advance  of  the  party  of 
progress.  No  man  had  a  sublimer  faith  in  the  destinies  of  the 
race.  No  one,  in  anticipating  those  destinies,  clothed  them  in 
the  drapery  of  a  more  gorgeous  imagination.  The  failures  of 
the  past  could  not  shake  his  confidence  in  the  future.  From 
the  mournful  teachings  of  history  even,  he  gathered  an  inner 
lesson  of  encouragement  and  hope.  At  no  time  had  anything 
been  really  lost.  The  best  forms  of  civilization  which  the  world 
had  seen  had  indeed  fallen  into  decay,  or  yielded  themselves  a 
prey  to  violence  ;  but  out  of  their  ruins  had  emerged  new  civ- 
ilizations embodying  all  the  best  elements  of  the  old,  together 
with  some  higher  principle  which  in  them  was  wanting.  The 
thread  of  progress,  which  for  a  time  seemed  broken  and  turned 
backwards,  reappears  to  guide  our  steps  anew  through  the  his- 
toric labyrinth. 

It  was  not,  however,  from  the  prophecies  of  the  past,  nor 

14 


210  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

from  the  tendencies  of  the  present,  that  he  chiefly  derived  his 
hopes  of  the  race.  Neither  was  it  from  man's  intellectual  en- 
dowments, however  exalted,  nor  from  the  magnificent  attend- 
ance of  material  agents  and  forces  which  stand  ever  ready  to  do 
his  bidding.  Nor  yet  was  it  from  his  unaided  moral  nature. 
This  was  too  weak  to  bear  the  strain  to  which  it  was  necessarily 
subjected.  It  succumbed  under  pressure.  Through  all  time 
its  failure  had  been  most  lamentable  —  the  fruitful  source  alike 
of  individual  and  national  disaster  and  ruin. 

It  was  only  in  the  moral  nature  of  man  supplemented  by  the 
new  forces  imported  into  it  by  Christianity  that  he  found  as- 
sured ground  for  faith  in  his  continued  progress.  Upon  this 
turned,  as  he  believed,  the  destinies  of  the  race,  both  in  this 
world  and  in  the  world  to  come.  Hence  his  unceasing  labors  in 
all  ways  and  by  all  means,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  amid 
the  most  varied  public  services  and  under  the  pressure  of  con- 
stant professional  duty,  —  labors  continued  without  intermission 
or  remission  through  a  whole  lifetime,  for  spreading  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  Gospel,  and  bringing  men  in  heart  and  in  life 
under  the  sway  of  its  principles.  Speaking  of  Christianity  as 
the  only  pillar  upon  which  his  hopes  for  himself  and  for  his 
race  rested,  he  once  said,  with  great  earnestness,  "  Any  doubt 
concerning  that  would  be  to  me  a  greater  calamity  than  the 
sinking;  of  a  continent." 

Of  the  numerous  works  given  by  President  Wayland  to  the 
pubHc,  two  are  biographical  and  one  is  controversial.  The  re- 
mainder are  educational,  didactic,  and  religious.  The  latter  are 
all  eminently  practical  in  their  aims.  I  am  unable  to  recall  a 
single  question,  of  a  purely  speculative  character,  discussed  or 
even  formally  stated  in  them.     Important  truths  pertaining  to 


A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  211 

man's  higher  interests,  whether  revealed  in  consciousness,  or 
made  known  by  the  teachings  of  inspiration,  or  resting  upon 
the  broader  basis  of  human  experience,  are  unfolded,  illustrated, 
and  enforced.  Rarely  is  much  time  given  to  the  discussion  of 
principles.  These  in  ethics  and  for  the  most  part  in  meta- 
physics approximate  so  closely  to  intuitions,  that  little  is  needed 
beyond  their  exact  and  clear  statement.  Truths  which  Ue  so 
remote  from  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  that  they  can  be 
reached  only  by  long  trains  of  reasoning,  will  be  found  practi- 
cally inoperative.  The  more  immediately  the  doctrines  of  phi- 
losophy, of  morals,  and  of  religion  are  made  to  spring  from 
that  common  sense,  the  stronger  will  be  their  hold  upon  the 
conduct  and  the  life.  No  one  comprehended  this  fact  more 
fully  or  knew  better  how  to  avail  himself  of  it  than  President 
Wayland.  The  most  extended  inference  to  be  found  in  all  his 
writings  is  covered  by  his  favorite  word  "  hence."  To  this  di- 
rect emergence  of  his  teachings  from  truths  recognized  by  all, 
is  due  in  no  small  degree  their  power  over  the  popular  mind. 
Occasionally  it  diminishes  somewhat  their  interest  by  imparting 
to  them  a  too  elementary  character. 

In  the  leading  tenets  of  his  intellectual  philosophy  he  con- 
forms most  nearly  to  the  doctrines  of  Stewart  and  Reid.  Al- 
though he  had  e^adently  perused  with  great  care  the  philosoph- 
ical writings  of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  and  lost  no  opportunity 
of  testifying  the  profoundest  admiration  for  his  genius,  we  find 
in  his  work  fewer  traces  of  the  pecuHar  views  of  the  latter  than 
might  have  been  expected.  On  neither  perception  nor  original 
suggestion  does  he  follow  his  doubtful  teachings.  In  truth, 
however  well  fitted  for  understanding  and  appreciating  one  an- 
other, the  American  President  and  the  great  Scottish  Professor 


212  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND. 

possessed  minds  cast  in  different  moulds,  and  characterized  by 
different  tendencies.  In  one,  the  moral  predominated  over  the 
intellectual ;  in  the  other,  the  intellectual  over  the  moral.  One 
sought  truth  from  a  conviction  of  its  inestimable  value ;  the 
other  rather  for  the  pleasure  of  the  excitement  attending  the 
pursuit.  "  Fruit  "  was  the  motto  of  one  ;  "  activity  "  and 
"  life  "  were  the  watchwords  of  the  other.  Both  conceive  with 
great  strength  and  vividness.  Both  hold  their  conceptions  with 
a  steadiness  that  never  wavers.  Both  mark  with  unerring  pre- 
cision their  contents.  Both  know  equally  well  how  to  draw 
them  from  their  several  momenta.  If  the  philosophical  percep- 
tions of  Sir  William  are  more  varied  and  profound,  those  of  Dr. 
Wayland  are  instinct  with  a  deeper  and  more  living  earnest- 
ness. If  the  discriminations  of  the  former  are  sharper  and  more 
penetrating,  those  of  the  latter  follow  with  a  finer  sense  the  nat- 
ural cleavages  of  thought.  If  the  former  deals  in  larger,  bolder 
generalizations,  the  latter  conducts  us  to  truths  of  greater  im- 
portance —  of  more  immediate  and  practical  value.^ 

I  do  not  think  that  processes  of  pure  and  simple  ratiocination 
had  great  attraction  for  Dr.  Wayland.  It  was  not  so  much 
that  they  tasked  too  severely  the  logical  faculty,  as  because  they 
held  in  restraint  the  imagination,  with  him  unusually  active,  and 
offered  nothing  that  addressed  the  moral  and  aesthetic  sensibili- 
ties, forming  so  large  and  important  a  part  of  his  nature.  The 
habit  of  his  mind  was  inductive  rather  than  deductive.  Analy- 
sis was  the  instrument  which  he  chiefly  used  in  the  search  for 
truth,  and  illustration  the  means  habitually  employed  by  him 
in  conveying  it  to  others. 

^  The  above  paragraph  is  substantially  from  an  article  by  the  author  in  the  North 
American  Review,  July,  1855. 


A  DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND.  213 

If  mere  argument  was  little  to  his  taste,  still  less  so  was  con- 
troversy, whatever  the  subject  or  with  whatever  of  chivalrous 
courtesy  it  might  be  conducted.  With  Milton  he  preferred  to 
contemplate  "  the  bright  countenance  of  truth  "  rather  than  to 
meet  and  battle  with  error.  When,  however,  he  consented  to 
enter  the  lists,  he  proved  no  mean  combatant.  His  great 
strength  and  his  advantages  of  stature  more  than  compensated 
for  any  want  of  practice  or  skill  in  the  use  of  weapons.  If  he 
was  not  always  sufiiciently  on  his  guard,  if  he  sometimes  in- 
cautiously opened  himself  to  an  unexpected  thrust  from  a  more 
agile  foe,  the  well-wrought  mail  of  principles  with  which  he  was 
panoplied  saved  him  from  any  serious  injury.  If  he  did  not 
insert  the  keen  blade  of  an  Ajax  into  the  joints  of  his  antag- 
onist's armor,  he  crashed  in  that  armor  by  the  Titan-like  blows 
which  he  dealt  upon  it.  But  these  knightly  passages-at-arms 
were  foreign  to  his  inclination  and  habits,  and  he  rarely  allowed 
himself  to  be  drawn  into  them. 

The  intellectual  processes  disclosed  in  his  writings  are  genuine 
and  thorough.  They  are  characterized  by  breadth  rather  than 
subtlety.  His  words,  always  well  chosen,  are  woven  into  periods 
which  render  with  scrupulous  fidelity  his  meaning.  His  para- 
graphs move  steadily  forward.  There  is  no  pause,  no  tergiver- 
sation, but  constant  progress  in  the  thought.  Each  sentence 
goes  with  the  directness  of  an  arrow  to  its  mark  ;  and  when  the 
exposition  of  the  law  or  the  discussion  of  the  topic  is  finished, 
there  is  left  on  the  mind  an  impression  of  singular  completeness. 
Not  a  word  employed  could  have  been  spared ;  not  another 
word  was  needed.  Perspicuity  is  the  most  striking  quality  of 
his  style.  His  ideas,  always  clear  and  well  defined,  clothe  them- 
selves in  language  having  the  transparency  of  crystal.      The 


214  A  DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

thought  is  self-luminous  and  the  expression  is  irradiated  by  its 
light.  This  is  true  of  his  plainest  and  most  ordinary  writing. 
When  he  rises  above  the  merely  didactic,  when  he  approaches 
the  higher  themes  of  human  welfare  and  destiny,  when  with 
powers  fully  aroused  he  pours  around  his  subject  the  boundless 
wealth  of  an  exuberant  imagination,  his  periods  kindle  and  blaze 
with  surpassing  splendor.  No  mere  phosphorescent  glow  then 
marks  the  track  of  his  thought.  It  is  the  lightning's  flash,  in- 
stantly illuminating  every  object  and  flooding  the  whole  air  with 
its  dazzling  brightness.  There  are  passages  in  his  writings  which 
for  brilliancy  are  hardly  surpassed  by  anything  in  the  language. 
President  Wayland  possessed  an  emotional  nature  of  great 
depth  and  richness.  No  man  was  more  profoundly  stirred  by 
the  forms  of  material  grandeur  presented  in  the  outward  uni- 
verse. No  bosom  glowed  with  a  more  generous  admiration  of 
high  intellectual  power,  or  kindled  with  a  livelier  enthusiasm 
at  the  exhibition  of  lofty  virtue.  No  soul  bowed  in  deeper  rev- 
erence before  God,  or  lifted  itself  more  adoringly  to  the  contem- 
plation of  His  being  and  attributes.  No  heart  was  more  easily 
moved  to  sympathy  or  responded  more  warmly  to  the  claims  of 
charity,  of  friendship,  and  of  country.  He  had  all  the  affections 
and  impulses  of  a  noble  nature.  He  loved  justice  and  right 
and  truth,  and  hated  and  despised  their  opposites.  In  propor- 
tion to  his  admiration  of  disinterestedness  and  generosity  was 
his  loathing  of  selfishness,  the  meanness  of  it  affecting  him 
even  more  than  the  sin.  His  detestation  of  injustice  and  wrong 
had  the  strength  of  a  passion.  Systematic  and  banded  oppres- 
sion of  the  weak  by  the  strong  awakened  in  him  an  intense  and 
burning  indignation,  to  which,  though  a  master  of  the  language 
of  emotion,  he  could  give  but  feeble  expression. 


A  DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND.  215 

It  was  this  depth  and  fervor  of  feeling  that  fitted  him  so  emi- 
nently for  the  treatment  of  moral  themes  and  made  his  tributes 
to  virtue  so  inspiring,  and  his  denunciations  of  vice  so  withering 
and  terrible.  It  was  this  which  gave  such  power  to  his  exhorta- 
tions, his  appeals,  his  rebukes,  and  his  warnings.  It  was  feeling 
welling  up  from  its  deep  sources  that  quickened  his  intellectual 
faculties  into  their  finest  action,  which  put  his  mind  on  wing 
and  imparted  to  it,  in  its  higher  flights,  such  breadth  and  clear- 
ness of  vision,  which  kindled  to  its  brightest  effulgence  his 
imagination,  and  inspired  his  loftiest  strains  of  eloquence. 

This  warmth  of  temperament,  while  it  was  the  source  of  so 
much  that  was  generous  in  character,  and  while  it  contributed 
so  largely  to  his  power  and  influence,  occasionally  betrayed  him 
into  hasty  judgments  which  were  not  always  just  towards  others. 
When,  however,  he  discovered  the  wrong,  though  it  were  in 
thought  only,  he  was  most  prompt  in  reparation.  The  same 
ardor  also  sometimes  showed  itself  in  too  impetuous  action.  In 
carrying  out  a  principle  with  whose  importance  he  had  become 
impressed,  he  was  Hable  not  to  keep  sufficiently  in  view  its  in- 
tersections by  other  general  truths  of  equal  moment.  Gravity 
is  coextensive  with  the  material  universe.  In  our  world  it  is 
met  at  innumerable  points  by  other  coordinate  forces  which 
modify  indefinitely  its  manifestations. 

Although  by  no  means  a  stranger  to  the  lighter  forms  of 
emotion  usually  termed  sentiment,  these  did  not,  like  the  deeper 
pulses  of  moral  feeling,  pervade  and  control  his  whole  nature. 
They  were  not  the  atmosphere  in  which  he  lived  and  moved  and 
had  his  being.  When  under  their  influence,  no  one  could  give 
them  more  graceful  expression.  The  extreme  delicacy  of  the 
language  in  which  he  breathes  forth  sentiment  in  some  of  his 


216  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

more  touching  tributes  to  friendship  and  exalted  worth,  makes 
us  almost  regret  that  these  tender  effusions  do  not  more  fre- 
quently grace  his  pages.  As  an  example,  I  would  instance 
his  discourse  on  the  life  and  character  of  the  Hon.  Nicholas 
Brown,  the  introductory  portion  of  which  contains  passages  of 
great  pathos  and  beauty  ;  also  his  address  to  Dr.  Nott,  of  Union 
College,  on  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  his  presidency,  in  which 
he  pays,  in  accents  so  moving,  the  grateful  homage  of  a  pupil 
to  a  beloved  and  venerated  instructor,  closing  with  those  almost 
daring  words,  which,  if  they  ever  had  fitting  application  among 
the  sons  of  men,  found  it  in  him  who,  in  the  fullness  of  his 
heart,  so  pathetically  uttered  them  :  "  Heaven  will  account  itself 
richer  as  it  opens  its  pearly  gates  to  welcome  thy  approach  ;  but 
where  shall  those  who  survive  find  anything  left  on  earth  that 
resembles  thee  ?  " 

There  is  a  force  in  the  natural  world  which  has  received  the 
designation  of  catalytic.  It  is  sometimes  called  the  power  of 
presence.  Bodies  in  which  it  resides  have  the  marvellous  prop- 
erty of  transmuting  other  bodies  by  mere  contact  into  their  like- 
ness. The  force  is  too  subtile  for  analysis,  and  has  hitherto 
defied  all  attempts  at  explanation.  Philosophers  have  contented 
themselves  with  simply  noting  and  naming  it.  The  fact  has 
its  analogy  in  the  moral  world.  There  are  men  who  possess  a 
similar  power  of  presence.  An  influence  goes  out  from  them 
equally  controlling  and  alike  incapable  of  analysis  or  philosoph- 
ical explanation.  President  Wayland  presented  a  most  striking 
example  of  this.  It  was  felt  by  all  who  came  near  him.  His 
power  as  a  speaker  and  as  a  teacher  depended  largely  upon  it. 
The  same  utterances  might  come  from  others,  but  how  slight, 
comparatively,   their  effect !     The  same  truths  might  be  im- 


A   DISCOURSE    ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND.  217 

pressed  by  others,  but  how  unlike  their  moulding  influence  ! 
The  same  principles  might  be  inculcated  by  others,  but  how  dif- 
ferent their  transforming  power  !  Behind  the  utterances,  back 
of  the  teachings,  was  a  living  soul  from  which  proceeded  ema- 
nations entirely  distinct  and  separate  from  ideas  and  quite  inde- 
pendent of  language.  The  subtile  influence  poured  through 
the  eye.  It  streamed  from  the  features.  It  flowed  through  the 
voice.  Gesture,  posture,  and  form  were  its  silent  vehicles.  It 
emphasized  thought ;  it  energized  expression  ;  it  vitalized  ideas. 
It  awoke  aspiration  ;  it  kindled  enthusiasm  ;  it  developed  power. 
It  was  the  direct  efflux  of  spiritual  energy  by  which  a  great  na- 
ture transformed  other  natures,  in  proportion  to  their  capacities, 
into  its  own  likeness.  It  is  the  want  of  this  incommunicable 
power  which  is  most  felt  by  his  pupils  in  the  perusal  of  his 
writings,  and  which  makes  them  unwilling  to  admit  that  he  has 
produced  anything  equal  to  himself. 

To  rare  intellectual  and  moral  endowment  was  united  in  our 
venerated  friend  a  nature  profoundly  religious.  To  this  was 
added  a  temperament  of  great  earnestness,  exalted  by  a  certain 
intense  realism.  Life  was  to  him  no  holiday.  It  was  fuU  of 
grave  interests  and  high  trusts  and  great  responsibilities,  with 
issues  more  momentous  than  the  human  mind  could  conceive. 
The  distant  and  the  future,  presented  through  his  vivid  imagi- 
nation, were  as  real  as  the  present.  God,  heaven,  the  immortal 
life,  and  death  eternal,  were  something  more  than  vague  ideas 
or  remote  possibilities ;  they  were  great,  overshadowing  facts ; 
instant  and  pressing  realities.  At  the  market,  in  places  of  as- 
sembly, by  the  wayside,  everywhere,  he  saw  men  having  undying 
souls,  which,  if  not  saved  through  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  must  be 
forever  lost ;  for  whose  weHare,  both  here  and  hereafter,  he,  in 


218  A   DISCOURSE   ON  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

proportion  to  the  ability  given  him,  would  be  held  accountable. 
Life  under  such  conditions  and  with  such  surroundings  could  not 
but  be  earnest.  No  fanatical  elements,  however,  mingled  in  it. 
It  was  free  even  from  Puritanic  severity.  His  nature  was  a 
healthy  one,  full  of  genial  and  kindly  impulses.  He  was  joyous, 
and  at  times  sportive  even,  but  trifling  never.  In  early  and  mid- 
dle life  he  was  much  sought  by  society,  and  was  the  pride  of  every 
circle  in  which  he  moved.  His  brilliant  conversation,  his  spark- 
ling wit,  and  his  quick  repartee  made  him  the  charm  of  the 
dinner  table.  But  these  social  pleasures  he  never  allowed  to 
interfere  with  life's  work.  They  were  only  silver  facings  on  the 
garments  of  duty  which  he  always  wore.  To  meet  the  approval 
of  the  great  Taskmaster,  in  whose  eye  he  ever  acted,  was  his 
constant  endeavor.  His  motives  were  drawn  from  the  unseen 
world.  To  that  his  aspirations  continually  tended.  Of  that,  as 
years  advanced,  he  became  more  and  more  a  denizen,  so  that 
when  the  time  of  his  departure  came,  it  seemed  but  a  slight 
removal. 

In  estimating  the  permanent  results  of  President  Wayland's 
life,  we  should  consider,  I  think,  not  merely  or  principally  his 
writings,  important  and  valuable  as  these  are.  We  should  look 
rather  to  the  characters  which  he  moulded,  and  to  the  moral 
and  religious  forces  which  he  set  in  action.  These,  as  well  as 
the  productions  of  his  pen,  still  live,  and  will  continue  to  live. 
Where  in  all  the  land  can  be  found  a  place  in  which  to-day  he 
is  not  working,  directly  or  indirectly,  through  those  whose  minds 
he  formed  and  inspired  ?  In  how  many  halls  of  learning  is  he 
now  giving  instruction  !  from  how  many  pulpits  holding  forth 
the  word  of  life  !  on  how  many  benches  dispensing  justice !  at 
how  many  bars  defending  the  rights  of  citizens  !     In  how  many 


A   DISCOURSE  ON  FRANCIS   WAYLAND.  219 

pagan  lands  is  he  imparting  to  minds  darkened  by  superstition 
and  idolatry  a  knowledge  of  the  only  true  God,  and  of  the  way 
of  salvation  through  Jesus  Christ !  Nor  will  his  influence  ter- 
minate with  the  lives  of  those  who  were  its  immediate  recipients. 
Moral  forces  never  die.  By  a  law  of  their  nature  they  perpet- 
uate and  extend  and  multiply  themselves  indefinitely.  When 
the  marble  in  yonder  hall,  to  which,  through  your  thoughtful- 
ness,  those  noble  features  have  been  eonmiitted,  shall '  have 
crumbled,  and  the  unborn  generations  that  will  look  upon  it 
shall  have  mingled  in  common  dust,  the  impulses  which  pro- 
ceeded from  him  will  be  still  acting  in  circles  of  influence  ever 
widening  and  reaching  larger  and  yet  larger  numbers. 

Friend  of  our  youth,  our  instructor,  exemplar,  and  guide  !  we 
shall  see  thy  face  and  hear  thy  voice  no  more.  Thou  hast  done 
with  earth.  Its  dusty  ways  are  trodden  by  thee  no  longer.  The 
impenitence  and  perversity  of  sinful  men  have  ceased  to  grieve 
thee.  Thou  now  walkest  the  streets  of  the  golden  city.  Angels 
are  thine  attendants,  and  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect 
are  thy  companions.  The  mysteries  which,  while  here,  thou 
didst  desire  to  look  into,  are  resolved.  Thou  hast  opened  thine 
eyes  upon  the  beatific  vision.  The  throne  of  God  and  of  the 
Lamb  is  before  thee.  Thou  gazest  with  unstricken  sight  upon 
the  effulgent,  unutterable  Glory.  We  wait  on  earth  yet  a  Httle, 
and  then  will  follow  thee. 


THE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 


Few  things  would  at  first  view  seem  to  be  more  unlike,  or  in 
less  danger  of  being  confounded,  than  knowledge  and  belief ; 
and  yet  they  are  so  blended  in  consciousness,  and,  moreover,  in 
some  of  their  forms  approximate  one  another  so  closely  in  char- 
acter, that  to  draw  the  line  of  demarkation  between  them  and 
determine  their  respective  values  as  grounds  of  action  is  no 
easy  task.  It  is  one,  however,  that  should  be  undertaken.  The 
times  demand  it.  In  these  days  of  vaunted  science,  when  men 
are  seeking  to  depose  faith  in  the  interest  of  positivism,  which 
they  would  place  on  her  throne,  it  behooves  the  friends  of  truth 
to  examine  the  claims  of  the  new  favorite  ;  to  see  whether  all 
that  we  have  been  accustomed  to  deem  holy  and  sacred  must  be 
buried  with  the  dead  past,  or  whether  there  be  not  something 
still  remaining  to  which  our  reverence  and  affection  may  cling  ; 
whether  the  highest  interest  and  true  glory  of  man  must  hence- 
forward be  sought  in  the  progress  of  the  arts  and  triumphs  of 
electricity  and  steam,  or  whether  virtue,  God,  heaven,  and  the 
immortal  life  may  not  after  all  be  more  than  empty  words  ; 
whether,  to  borrow  an  illustration  from  one  of  the  leaders  of 
this  school,  everything  lying  beyond  the  sphere  of  the  senses  is 
but  "  lunar  politics,"  of  which  we  know  nothing  and  can  know 
nothing,  and  concerning  which  it  is  a  waste  of  time  to  specu- 


THE  REALM  OF  FAITH.  221 

late,  or  whether  the  realm  thus  excluded  from  thought  be  not 
the  true  home  of  the  soul,  where  alone  it  finds  free  scope  for 
the  exercise  of  all  its  faculties  ;  whether  we  shall  adopt  the  ad- 
vice of  the  great  English  skeptic  quoted  by  the  same  authority 
with  fullest  indorsement,  who  says,  "  If  we  take  in  hand  any 
volume  of  divinity  or  school  metaphysics,  for  instance,  let  us 
ask,  Does  it  contain  any  abstract  reasoning  concerning  quantity 
or  number  ?  No.  Does  it  contain  any  experimental  reasoning 
concerning  matters  of  fact  or  existence  ?  No.  Commit  it  then 
to  the  flames  ;  for  it  contains  nothing  but  sophistry  and  illu- 
sion ;  "  or  whether  we  shall  look  especially  to  these  repudiated 
sources  for  light  on  the  problems  of  duty  and  destiny,  which 
press  upon  us  and  have  ever  pressed  upon  the  race  for  solution. 
To  such  an  examination  and  inquiry  we  invite  the  attention  of 
the  reader.  We  would  that  we  came  to  it  with  larger  prepara- 
tion and  a  clearer  sight ;  but  the  result  of  such  thought  as  we 
have  been  able  to  bestow  we  offer,  relying  upon  the  importance 
of  the  subject  to  justify,  however  imperfectly  successful,  our  en- 
deavor. 

We  think  it  will  be  seen,  on  a  little  reflection,  that  positive 
knowledge  is  limited  to  our  own  mental  states  ;  to  the  thoughts, 
purposes,  feelings,  desires,  and  volitions  of  which  we  are  con- 
scious. We  know  these  absolutely.  They  are  precisely  what 
we  conceive  them  to  be.  No  skeptic  ever  doubted  concerning 
them.  Even  Hume,  although  he  questioned  everything  else, 
admitted  the  reality  of  his  own  mental  experiences.  For  these 
he  had  the  best  of  vouchers,  consciousness.  All  besides  which 
men  call  knowledge  lacked  this  voucher.  And  here  we  think 
he  was  right.  We  have  no  power  of  direct  cognition  beyond 
ourselves.    Between  the  world  within  and  the  world  without,  or, 


222  THE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

in  metaphysical  phrase,  the  me  and  the  not  me,  is  a  mighty 
chasm,  spanned  only  by  the  bridge  of  faith.  If  we  refuse  to 
trust  ourselves  to  this,  we  must  remain  forever  cut  off  and  iso- 
lated from  the  rest  of  the  universe. 

We  are  aware  that  Sir  William  Hamilton  has  attempted  to 
establish  a  different  doctrine.  He  has  sought  to  make  external 
existences  the  subjects  of  direct  knowledge  by  bringing  them- 
within  the  field  of  consciousness.  Dispensing  with  faith's 
bridge,  he  has  courageously  undertaken  to  throw  up  a  causeway 
along  which  we  may  pass  to  the  outward  world  on  solid  ground. 
Dr.  Noah  Porter,  following  in  his  footsteps,  has  striven  to  add 
strength  and  completeness  to  the  work.  Both,  however,  must, 
we  think,  be  admitted  to  have  signally  failed  in  their  endeavors. 
The  yawning  gulf  will  not  be  filled.  We  enter  upon  their  la- 
boriously raised  way.  For  a  time  our  progress  seems  secure. 
At  length  the  ground  gives  way  beneath  our  feet,  and  we  are 
lost  in  the  fathomless  depths  below.  For  a  knowledge  of  aught 
without  ourselves,  we  are  dependent  upon  the  senses.  For  the 
truthfulness  of  these,  our  only  guaranty  is  the  character  of  Him 
who  formed  them.  The  natural  and  the  supernatural,  so  far  as 
made  known,  are  alike  revelations  from  God,  reaching  us  indeed 
through  different  channels,  but  resting  their  claim  to  reception 
equally  on  our  faith  in  Him. 

If  we  pass  from  the  phenomenal  to  the  real,  from  the  out- 
ward form  and  sensible  properties  of  bodies  to  their  indwelling 
powers,  from  the  regulated  succession  of  events  in  the  world 
around  us  to  the  underlying  causes  by  which  the  orderly  move- 
ment is  determined,  we  find  ourselves  still  further  removed  from 
the  domain  of  knowledge  and  still  further  advanced  in  the  en- 
compassing realm   of  belief.      Of   the   essences   of   things  we 


THE  REALM  OF  FAITH.  223 

know  and  can  know  nothing.     God  has  denied  us  the  faculties 
necessary  for   their  apprehension.     He  has  so  constituted  us, 
however,  that  by  a  law  of  our  intellectual  being  we  are  com- 
pelled to  believe  in  their  existence.     We  are  as  sure  of  it  as  if 
they  were  palpable  to  the  senses,  and  could  be  felt  and  handled. 
Of   the  material  forces  evohing:  the   chansfes  of'  the  outward 
world  we  have  no  knowledge.     By  careful  and  long  continued 
observations  we  may  indeed  ascertain  the  order  and  conditions 
of  their  manifestations.     But  to  grasp  the  forces  themselves  ex- 
ceeds our  utmost  endeavor.     They  are  too  subtle  for  apprehen- 
sion.    They  elude  every  attempt  to  lay  hold  of  them.    We  have 
no  doubt,  however,  as  to  their  existence  ;  we  are  as  certain  of  it 
as  we  are  of  our  own  existence.     A  belief  imposed  by  the  laws 
of  our  mental  structure  is  ground  for  as  perfect  assurance  as 
knowledge.     We  act  as  confidently  upon  it  in  the  ordinary  af- 
fairs of  life.    It  is,  moreover,  on  such  beliefs  that  all  philoso- 
phy must  rest  to  afford  any  hope  of  permanence.     The  folly 
of  seeking  for  it  a  basis  in  positive  knowledge  the  experience 
of  the  last  thirty  centuries  has  abundantly  demonstrated.     The 
history  of  philosophy  during  that  period  has  been  a  history  of 
failures ;  not,  as  Mr.  Lewes  would  have   us   suppose,  because 
philosophy  is  impossible,  but  because  of  the  mistakes  of  the 
builders.    Rejecting  with  one  accord  faith  as  its  foundation  and 
chief  corner-stone,  they  have  reared  its  successive  structures  on 
the  shifting  sands  of  opinion.     Hence  their  instability.     How- 
ever fair  the  proportions  in  which  they  may  have  arisen,  or 
whatever  appearance  of  strength  and  solidity  they  may  have  as- 
sumed, for  want  of  adequate  support,  they  have,  one  after  an- 
other, tumbled  into  ruins. 

In  this  connection  we  beg  to  call  attention  to  what  we  deem 


224  THE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

another  grave  error  of  Sir  William  Hamilton.  We  allude  to 
his  derivation  of  the  causal  judgment.  Instead  of  recognizing 
it  as  a  direct  affirmation  of  the  reason,  an  immediate  revelation 
of  the  intelligence,  he  traces  it  to  a  source  which  deprives  it  of 
all  authority,  a  source  in  the  mind's  impotence.  We  believe 
that  every  change  must  be  produced  by  some  cause,  not  from 
any  apprehended  necessity  in  the  case,  but  from  our  inability  to 
conceive  the  contrary  ;  an  inability  which,  for  aught  we  know, 
may  arise  solely  from  the  limitation  of  our  faculties.  However 
far  from  intending  it,  he  thus  saps  the  foundation  alike  of  phi- 
losophy and  religion,  and  opens  wide  the  door  for  the  entrance 
of  atheism. 

If  we  extend  further  our  observations  in  the  world  around  us, 
we  discover  evidences,  not  merely  of  power,  but  of  power  under 
the  direction  of  intelligence.  The  elementary  particles  of  mat- 
ter do  not  exist  in  a  state  of  isolation,  having  each  its  own  sepa- 
rate and  distinct  sphere  of  action.  On  the  contrary,  they  are 
united  into  groups,  and  these  groups  are  again  united  into 
larger  groups,  and  these  larger  groups  are  so  conjoined  as  to 
form  systems  ;  and  these  systems  constitute  parts  of  larger  sys- 
tems, and  these  of  yet  larger,  from  a  molecule  of  water  up  to 
the  sidereal  universe.  Each  one  of  these  innumerable  systems, 
whatever  its  magnitude  or  degree  of  complexity,  we  see  working 
out,  through  the  coordinated  and  harmonious  action  of  its  sev- 
eral parts,  results  worthy  from  their  importance  to  be  the  ob- 
jects of  intelligent  effort.  What  then  is  the  necessary  infer- 
ence ?  That  each  one  of  these  systems  is  the  work  of  mind ; 
that  it  was  devised  and  constructed  for  the  purposes  which  we 
see  accomplished  by  it.  This  is  absolutely  demanded  by  the 
causal  judgment.     Power  alone  will  not  explain  the  facts.     It 


THE  REALM  OF  FAITH.  225 

must  have  been  associated  with  intelligence ;  and  as  these  sys- 
tems have  interdependencies  innumerable,  and  together  consti- 
tute one  single  whole,  they  must  be  the  work  of  one  and  the 
same  intelligence.  There  is  no  escape  from  this  conclusion,  un- 
less we  throw  away  one  of  the  clearest  intuitions  of  our  nature, 
and  abandon  all  reasoning  on  the  subject.  Nebular  hypotheses 
and  theories  of  development  are  of  no  avail  in  lessening  the 
force  of  the  argument.  If  the  design  was  not  in  the  oak,  it 
was  in  the  acorn.  If  it  was  not  in  the  elaborately  organized 
man,  it  was  in  the  germ  from  which  he  sprung.  If  it  was  not 
in  the  completed  earth,  it  was  in  the  vaporous  matter  out  of 
which  the  earth  in  process  of  time  grew.  Away  with  the  sense- 
less babble  about  star  dust,  and  protoplasm,  and  laws  of  devel- 
opment, and  natural  selection.  Concede  to  these  hypotheses, 
which  they  at  best  are,  whatever  of  probability  may  be  claimed 
for  them,  they  do  not  advance  us  a  single  step  in  solving  the 
problem  of  creation.  They  have  no  more  power  for  this  than 
Lucretius'  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms,  or  Plato's  archetypal 
ideas,  or  the  numbers  of  Pythagoras,  or  the  mundane  eg^  of 
the  Egyptian  mythology.  Should  they  ever  be  placed  on  a  suf- 
ficiently broad  basis  of  induction  to  entitle  them  to  be  regarded 
as  facts  and  laws,  they  will  then  be  only  outgrowths  of  an  orig- 
inal constitution  of  things  which  design  alone  can  explain. 
That  the  framers  of  these  hypotheses  should  press  them  beyond 
their  proper  limits  is  not  remarkable.  That  others  of  atheisti- 
cal tendencies  should  make  use  of  them  for  strengthening  their 
faith  is  equally  natural.  But  that  men  of  the  highest  intellec- 
tual endowments,  who  have  spent  their  whole  lives  in  the  study 
of  nature,  should  from  lack  of  moral  vision  be  insensible  to  the 
light  of  mind  everywhere  shining  through  it,  is  passing  strange. 

15 


226  '^HE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

How  pitiable  to  see  these  blind  Titans,  instead  of  walking  freely 
abroad  amid  the  glories  of  a  divinely-formed  and  God-illumined 
world  which  was  their  birthright,  now  grinding,  Samson-like,  in 
the  mill  of  inexorable,  unvarying  law,  and  now  struggling  to 
wrench  away  the  pillars  of  the  moral  firmament,  that  they  may 
bury  themselves  and  all  humanity  beneath  the  ruins  ! 

The  innumerable  arrangements  and  adaptations  in  nature 
which  disclose  intelligence  afford  at  the  same  time  equal  proof 
of  benevolence.  The  contrivance  everywhere  looks,  either  im- 
mediately or  remotely,  to  the  welfare  of  sentient  beings.  What- 
ever be  its  range  or  comprehension,  whether  it  embrace  in  its 
provisions  the  entire  animal  creation  or  be  limited  to  a  single 
species,  ministry  to  happiness  is  its  manifest  purpose.  Evil  ap- 
pears in  the  world  only  as  incidental  to  the  good.  It  is  not  like 
the  latter,  the  object  of  contrivance  and  design.  No  provisions 
are  found  looking  to  it  as  an  end.  On  the  contrary,  we  meet,  in 
numerous  instances,  with  supplementary  contrivances,  intended 
solely  for  its  counteraction.  Why  the  Omnipotent  One  should 
resort  to  the  use  of  means  for  the  attainment  of  ends,  why  He 
does  not  directly  will  whatever  He  desires,  is  not  for  us  to  in- 
quire. A  solution  of  that  problem  can  come  only  from  the 
depths  of  the  divine  nature.  We  may,  however,  observe  that  it 
is  through  this  mode  of  working  that  He  has  made  known  to  us 
His  existence  and  attributes.  It  is  also  through  this  mode  of 
working  that  He  has  enabled  us  to  become  co-workers  with  Him. 
But  the  plan  of  constituting  a  few  general  agents,  and  of  em- 
ploying them  through  special  devices  for  the  attainment  of  par- 
ticular ends,  having  been  adopted,  there  was  a  necessary  com- 
mittal to  all  which  the  plan  involved.  The  incidental  evil  could 
not  be  separated  from  the  purposed  good.     Were  the  former 


THE  REALM  OF  FAITH.  227 

many  times  greater  than  we  find  it,  standing  in  the  relation 
which  it  does  to  the  latter,  it  would  not  weigh  a  feather  against 
the  argument  from  universal  nature  for  the  divine  benevolence. 

But  we  tarry  too  long  in  this  lower  realm  of  behef,  which 
lies  so  close  to  the  domain  of  knowledge  that  it  scarcely  affords 
opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  faith  in  its  more  characteristic 
and  distinctive  form.  Ye  believe  in  God.  Ye  do  well ;  the 
devils  believe  also,  and  tremble.  The  existence  of  an  intelligent 
Author  of  nature,  who  has  ordered  all  its  beneficent  arrange- 
ments, is  a  demand  of  the  causal  judgment  so  imperative  that 
only  the  most  extraordinary  mental  obliquity  can  resist  it.  But 
not  so  with  his  moral  perfections,  His  truth.  His  justice.  His 
holiness.  These  rest  on  a  different  foundation.  We  go  to  ex- 
ternal nature  in  vain  for  evidence  of  them.  The  depth  saith.  It 
is  not  in  me ;  and  the  sea  saith.  It  is  not  with  me.  The  fowl 
of  the  air  saith.  It  is  not  in  me ;  the  beast  of  the  field  saith.  It  is 
not  in  me.  The  earth,  as  it  hastens  on  in  its  appointed  course, 
saith.  It  is  not  in  me.  The  starry  firmament  saith.  It  is  not 
in  me.  The  grounds  for  belief  in  these  higher  attributes  of 
the  Creator,  aside  from  revelation,  must  be  sought  in  the  sen- 
timents and  intuitions  of  the  human  soul.  This  having  been 
formed  by  Him,  though  we  do  not  suppose  it  to  bear  his 
image,  must,  of  necessity,  reflect  his  character. 

That  God,  whose  existence  and  natural  perfections  are  so 
clearly  revealed  in  the  outward  creation,  is  true  must  be  re- 
garded as  a  moral  axiom.  With  infinite  resources  of  power 
and  wisdom  at  command,  it  is  inconceivable  that  He  should 
have  recourse  to  deception  for  the  fulfillment  of  his  purposes. 
The  Scriptures  everywhere  assume  the  diAine  veracity,  and  rest 
their  claims  to  reception  solely  upon  it.     Dark  indeed  must  be 


228  THE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

the  soul  of  him  who  refuses  to  accept  this  fundamental  truth. 
It  underlies,  as  we  have  seen,  all  our  constitutional  beliefs,  and 
gives  to  them  whatever  validity  they  possess.  It  is  the  only 
guaranty  for  the  truthfulness  of  the  senses,  the  sole  ground  of 
assurance  that  life  is  not  a  dream,  and  everything  in  it  illusory. 

That  God  is  just,  is  another  moral  axiom.  All  rightly  consti- 
tuted'minds  at  once  admit  it.  So  strongly  is  the  conviction  im- 
planted that  the  apparent  want  of  accordance  between  treatment 
and  desert  under  the  government  of  God  in  this  world  has  uni- 
versally led  to  the  belief  in  a  future  state  of  existence,  in  which 
the  wrongs  of  this  life  will  be  righted ;  in  which  a  righteous 
government,  only  begun  here,  will  be  carried  on  to  completion. 
Doubt  concerning  the  divine  justice  would  argue  mental  or 
moral  obliquity. 

The  holiness  of  God,  or  his  completeness  in  moral  perfections, 
should,  we  think,  be  placed  on  the  same  basis.  We  do  not  ask 
for  proof  of  it.  We  at  once  accept  it  as  an  indubitable  truth. 
"  Our  whole  nature,"  says  Bishop  Butler,  "  leads  us  to  ascribe 
all  moral  perfections  to  God,  and  to  deny  all  imperfection  in 
Him ;  and  this  will  forever  be  a  practical  proof  of  his  moral 
character  to  such  as  will  consider  what  a  practical  proof  is,  be- 
cause it  is  the  voice  of  God  speaking  in  us." 

Were  further  evidence  of  the  divine  perfections  needed,  we 
should  find  it  in  the  structure  of  our  moral  natures.  God  has 
so  constituted  us  that  we  approve  and  honor  truth,  and  despise 
and  abhor  falsehood.  Must  we  not  see  in  this  constitution  an 
adumbration  of  his  character?  God  has  so  made  us  that  we 
instinctively  love  justice  and  right,  and  hate  injustice  and  wrong. 
Must  we  not  see  in  these  feelings  a  reflection  of  his  sentiments  ? 
Can  we  suppose  Him  to  have  endowed  us  with  a  faculty  for 


THE   REALM  OF  FAITH.  229 

moral  discriminations  not  made  nor  recognized  by  Him  ?  He 
that  formed  the  eye,  shall  He  not  see  ?  He  that  planted  the 
ear,  shall  He  not  hear  ?  God  has  made  us  capable  of  perceiving 
the  beauty  of  holiness.  Has  He  given  us  this  faculty  without 
anything  in  Himself  to  call  it  into  exercise  ? 

But  these  intuitive  beliefs,  thus  strengthened  by  disclosures  of 
the  divine  character  in  the  constitution  given  us,  are  confirmed 
by  an  external  revelation  attested  by  miracles,  and  supported  by 
a  body  of  evidence  of  various  kinds,  such  as  can  be  adduced  for 
no  other  historical  fact  of  like  antiquity.  This  revelation,  more- 
over, contains  many  things  additional  to  the  teachings  of  the 
light  within,  but  so  in  harmony  with  these  teachings  that  we 
should  be  prepared  to  receive  them  on  testimony  less  weighty. 
Faith,  taking  within  her  embrace  the  truths  of  both  revelations, 
jealously  guards  them  as  her  most  precious  treasures,  treasures 
which,  unlike  all  others,  grow  continually  brighter  with  keeping. 

Between  these  beliefs  in  relation  to  God  and  human  duty  and 
destiny,  whether  immediate  or  derived,  and  our  moral  states  and 
habits,  there  exists,  we  hardly  need  say,  an  intimate  connection 
whereby  they  exert  a  reciprocal  influence  upon  one  another.  If 
the  beliefs  be  strong,  they  will  invigorate  the  moral  sentiments, 
and  these  in  turn  will  prompt  to  more  energetic  action.  If  the 
beliefs  be  feeble,  the  moral  sentiments  will  become  languid  or 
obscured,  and  lose  their  power  over  the  life.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  conduct  be  habitually  wrong,  it  will  react  on  the 
moral  sentiments.  These  become  weakened  and  disordered, 
and  faith  dies  out  in  the  soul. 

From  this  connection  between  faith  and  the  moral  tempers 
and  dispositions  from  which  it  springs,  it  is  taken  in  the  Scrip- 
tures as  the  evidence  and  exponent  of  character.     The  highest 


230  THE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

spiritual  blessings  are  promised  to  it.  "  He  that  believeth  on 
me,"  that  receives  with  a  hearty  and  loving  faith  the  truths 
which  I  teach,  "  hath  everlasting  life."  "  He  that  heareth  my 
word  and  believeth  in  him  that  sent  me,  hath  everlasting  life, 
and  shall  not  come  unto  condemnation,  but  is  passed  from  death 
unto  life." 

Having  thus  rapidly  glanced  at  the  domain  of  knowledge, 
and  the  realm  of  faith  which  lies  around  it,  let  us  now  examine 
them  somewhat  more  in  detail,  and  see  what  they  respectively 
offer  us.  By  such  an  examination  and  comparison,  we  shall  be 
able  to  judge  of  the  boasted  superiority  of  positivism ;  to  see 
whether  its  advantages  are  such  as  to  justify  us  in  turning  our 
backs  upon  philosophy  and  religion,  and  joyfully  enrolling  our 
names  on  the  list  of  its  votaries.  The  guerdon  promised  for 
giving  up  our  most  valued  possessions  in  this  world,  and  all  that 
we  hope  for  in  the  next,  should  not  be  a  slight  one. 

Let  us  first  turn  to  external  nature,  and  see  how  the  teachings 
of  this  new  philosophy  enhance  its  value.  Instead  of  the  old- 
fashioned,  useless,  and  cumbrous  hypothesis  of  real  existences, 
we  have  a  mere  assemblage  of  appearances,  —  a  phantasmagoria 
on  a  large  scale,  in  which  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  earth,  oceans, 
mountains,  trees,  and  men,  are  seen  on  the  magic  screen  :  or  a 
moving  panorama  whose  varied  figures,  whether  of  larger  or 
smaller  size,  whether  singly  or  in  groups,  pass  in  orderly  pro- 
cession before  us.  Back  of  these  appearances  there  is  absolutely 
nothing.  They  come  into  existence  uncaused;  they  continue 
in  existence  without  support ;  they  go  out  of  existence  through 
no  agency.  Any  speculation  as  to  their  origin,  nature,  or  pur- 
pose is  but  dreaming.  All  that  we  can  rationally  do  is  to  ob- 
serve, compare,  and  classify  them.     Although  the  figures  pass 


THE   REALM  OF  FAITH.  231 

before  us  on  the  painted  canvas  with  the  most  perfect  regularity, 
so  that  when  we  have  learned  the  law  of  their  movement,  we 
can  predict  the  time  and  place  of  the  reappearance  of  each  with 
unerring  certainty,  there  is  no  connection  between  these  figures, 
and  no  machinery  behind  them  by  which  the  orderly  movement 
is  determined.  Any  inquiry  concerning  the  cause  of  this  move- 
ment would  be  worse  than  idle ;  for  it  has  no  cause.  The  only 
object  worthy  of  rational  effort  is  to  ascertain,  by  sufficiently  ex- 
tended observation,  the  law  which  governs  it,  and  thus  acquire 
the  power  of  prevision.  Prevision  is  the  measure  and  test  and 
sole  fruit  of  positive  science.  He  is  the  greatest  philosopher 
who  can  see  farthest  in  advance  the  movements  of  the  several 
figures  in  the  panorama ;  or,  to  change  the  illustration,  who  can 
tell  what  forms  will  be  presented  to  the  eye  after  the  greatest 
number  of  rotations  of  the  kaleidoscope,  or  say,  in  the  case  of 
Mr.  Babbage's  calculating  engine,  what  number  will  be  brought 
up  at  the  ten  thousandth  or  ten  millionth  or  ten  billionth  turn 
of  the  wheel. 

If,  in  condescension  to  our  weak  prejudices,  or  mental  infir- 
mities, if  you  please,  the  new  philosophy  recognize  the  principle 
of  faith  to  the  extent  of  admitting  the  reality  of  external  exist- 
ences, it  gives  us  but  a  dead  Nature.  No  indwelling  spirit  ani- 
mates her  frame  nor  breathes  its  quickening  influence  through 
her  members.  No  intelligence  beams  in  her  countenance.  No 
light  of  mind  shines  through  her  features.  There  are,  indeed, 
vast  masses  of  matter,  — mighty  suns  and  huge  and  ponder- 
ous planets  revolving  about  them.  On  one  of  the  smallest  of 
these  planets  are  wide  oceans  and  broad  continents,  and  lofty 
mountains  and  extended  plains,  presenting  accommodations  and 
the  means  of  sustenance  for  the  most  diversified  forms  of  life. 


232  THE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

But  what  of  this  ?  The  fact  is  of  no  significance.  It  proves 
nothing.  It  indicates  nothing.  This  apparent  array  of  means 
was  not  brought  into  existence  for  the  attainment  of  any  end, 
—  was  not  designed  for  the  accomplishment  of  any  purpose. 
Intelligence  had  no  part  in  it.  It  was  the  mere  result  of 
chance ;  one  of  the  possible  issues  of  an  original  chaos  of 
atoms,  every  one  of  whose  movements  was  determined  by  blind 
laws.  Nature,  and  not  God,  Nature,  herself  blind  and  uncon- 
scious, is  the  author  of  all  these  nicely  adjusted  arrangements, 
all  this  furniture  of  life  in  the  heavens  above  us,  and  in  the 
earth  under  us.  After  countless  ages  of  unconscious  struggle,  of 
combinations  and  recombinations,  constructions  and  reconstruc- 
tions innumerable,  this  grand  result  was  at  length  attained. 

Let  us  next  turn  to  the  domain  of  life,  and  see  what  the  new 
philosophy  offers  us  in  this  department  of  the  Creator's  works. 
May  we  not  look  for  its  superiority  here?  May  it  not  here 
disclose  the  attractive  features  that  are  to  win  us  to  its  em- 
brace ?  Alas  !  we  are  again  doomed  to  disappointment.  It  is 
here  that  it  especially  shows  its  weakness ;  that  it  darkens  coun- 
sel by  words  without  knowledge  ;  that  it  repels  us  alike  by  the 
hideousness  of  its  portrayals,  and  the  absurdity  of  its  doctrines. 
Nature,  after  having,  by  a  whole  eternity  of  unconscious  strug- 
gles, accidentally  effected  the  organization  of  our  planet,  con- 
tinues her  blind  efforts,  and  at  length,  by  a  chance  combination 
of  the  right  elements,  gives  birth  to  the  first  living  thing.  A 
starting-point  is  thus  secured  for  a  new  series  of  developments. 
From  this  starting-point  life  is  carried  upward,  partly  by  fortu- 
nate accidents  rewarding  the  uninterrupted  struggles  of  nature, 
partly  by  the  conscious  and  voluntary  efforts  of  the  individual 
to  adapt  himself  to  new  conditions,  and  partly  by  natural  salec- 


THE  REALM  OF  FAITH.  233 

tion,  or  the  surviving  of  the  fittest.  Millions  of  ages  roll  away. 
The  molluscan,  ichthian,  reptilian,  and  mammalian  types  are 
successively  reached.  At  length,  the  persevering  efforts  of 
unconscious  Nature,  seconded  by  favoring  influences  and  happy 
chances,  are  crowned  by  the  appearance  of  a  quadrumane.  Man 
comes  next.  He  is  a  monkey  of  larger  growth,  with  cranium 
more  developed  and  extremities  more  specialized,  but  still  a 
monkey.  His  parentage  is  revealed  in  every  feature.  His  life, 
too,  shows  it.  He  is  born,  and  grows  up.  He  eats,  he  drinks, 
he  sleeps,  he  loves,  he  hates,  he  hopes,  he  fears,  he  dies.  His 
intelligence  is  greater,  owing  to  the  larger  size  of  his  brain. 
Hence,  he  bedecks  himself,  he  builds  houses,  he  plants  trees,  he 
rides,  he  dances,  he  buys,  he  sells,  he  gibbers  about  philosophy, 
and  law,  and  fate,  and  free  will,  and  foreordination,  and  evi- 
dences of  design,  and  causes  efficient  and  final,  and  essences 
material  and  spiritual.  But  after  thus  riding  and  dancing  and 
gibbering  through  the  brief  span  of  his  existence,  he  dies  like 
the  monkey,  and  like  the  monkey  transfers  the  life  which  he 
had  received  from  others  to  the  worms  that  feed  upon  him. 
His  dust  goes  to  feed  the  roots  of  a  neighboring  tree,  or  to 
clothe  with  fresh  beauty  the  flower  that  blooms  over  it. 

And  is  this  all  ?  This  is  all.  Is  there  no  resurrection  ?  no 
life  to  come  ?  No  resurrection  ;  no  life  to  come.  Can  Nature, 
with  her  mighty  array  of  means,  her  vast  apparatus  of  worlds, 
every  one  of  which  contains  within  itself  inexhaustible  resources, 
—  can  she  do  more  than  this  ?  No  more  than  this.  Or,  as 
time  is  endless  and  chances  are  infinite,  possibly  she  may  do 
more.  By  continuing  without  remission  her  blind  efforts  for  a 
few  million  or  a  few  hundred  million  years,  she  may  at  length 
succeed  in  producing  a  quadrumane  of  yet  higher  development. 


234  THE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

and  yet  larger  intelligence,  who  shall  eat  and  drink  and  sleep 
more  luxuriously,  who  shall  array  himself  in  finer  apparel,  and 
rear  for  his  accommodation  more  sumptuous  palaces  ;  who  shall 
ride  more  gayly,  and  dance  more  gracefully,  and  discourse  in 
fitter  terms  of  man  and  nature  and  destiny,  and  who,  when  he 
comes  to  die  and  be  buried,  shall  be  fed  upon  by  worms  of  bet- 
ter appearance,  and  whose  dust  shall  go  to  nourish  trees  of  a 
finer  port  and  flowers  of  brighter  colors.  And  is  this  all  ?  All, 
absolutely  all.     Nature  no  further  can  go. 

But  may  we  not  find  some  alleviation  to  our  humbled  and 
wounded  pride  in  the  moral  nature  of  man,  —  the  last  refuge  of 
our  hopes  ?  May  we  not  discover  here  his  true  nobility  ?  Al- 
though allied  by  his  bodily  and  mental  structure  to  the  beasts 
of  the  field,  and  destined  like  them  to  perish,  may  he  not 
impart  dignity  to  his  existence,  brief  though  it  be,  by  a  life  of 
virtue  and  self-sacrifice,  of  high  resolves  and  noble  aims  and 
heroic  endeavors  ?  Alas  !  alas  !  virtue  is  only  a  name.  High 
resolves  and  noble  aims  and  heroic  endeavors  are  of  no  more 
worth  than  fig  leaves,  or  fennel  seed,  or  apple  blossoms.  Man 
is  not  a  responsible  agent.  His  imagined  consciousness  of  free- 
dom is  illusory.  His  good  and  bad  actions  are  no  more  subjects 
for  praise  or  blame  than  the  ascent  of  a  rocket  and  the  descent 
of  the  stick.  The  creature  of  blind  chance,  he  is  the  victim  of 
an  implacable  destiny.  Prometheus  like,  he  is  bound  by  an 
,  adamantine  chain  to  the  rock  of  fate,  while  the  vulture  con- 
science gnaws  at  his  vitals.  Lines  of  antecedent  and  conse- 
quent, extending  from  the  first  movement  in  the  original  chaos 
of  atoms,  across  the  cycles  of  planetary  evolution  to  the  newly 
formed  earth,  and  thence,  with  continuity  unbroken,  down  the 
geologic  ages  to  man,  run  through  all  his  actions,  binding  them 


THE  REALM  OF  FAITH.  235. 

to  one  another  by  indissoluble  ties.  Every  thought  and  desire 
and  purpose  were  predetermined  from  the  beginning.  He  can 
no  more  change  his  character  or  his  life  than  he  can  change 
his  person.  He  is  a  mere  puppet,  obeying  in  every  movement 
an  unalienable  necessity.  He  is  the  football  of  destiny,  the 
plaything  of  fate.  He  is  morally  of  no  more  worth  than  a 
worm,  a  tree,  or  a  stone. 

And  is  this  all  that  the  boasted  philosophy  can  give  us  ?  Is 
it  for  such  a  mess  of  pottage  that  we  are  asked  to  part  with 
our  spiritual  birthright  ?  For  so  beggarly  a  possession  are  we 
to  open  faith's  treasury  and  pour  out  of  her  riches  ?  How 
unlike  these  dreary,  dismal  wastes  of  positivism  are  the  visions 
which  meet  us  when  we  cross  the  border  and  enter  her  domin- 
ions !  How  different  the  sights  and  sounds  which  everywhere 
greet  our  senses !  How  changed  is  the  aspect  of  all  around  us! 
Nature  has  risen  from  her  deadly  swoon,  and  sits  arrayed  in  her 
beautiful  garments.  A  celestial  intelligence  beams  in  her  coun- 
tenance, and  from  every  one  of  her  myriad  tongues  comes  up 
the  voice  of  praise.  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and 
the  firmament  showeth  his  handiwork.  Day  unto  day  uttereth 
speech,  and  night  unto  night  showeth  knowledge  ;  and  there  is 
no  speech  nor  language  where  their  voice  is  not  heard.  Earth, 
with  all  in  it  and  on  it,  joins  in  the  great  acclaim.  The  sea 
roars,  the  waves  lift  up  their  voice,  the  mountains  break  forth 
into  singing,  the  trees  clap  their  hands,  the  little  hills  rejoice  on 
every  side.  God  is  in  all  the  beneficent  agencies  of  Nature. 
He  sendeth  the  streams  among  the  valleys.  He  watereth  the 
hills  from  his  chambers.  He  causeth  the  grass  to  grow  for  the 
cattle,  and  with  oil,  bread,  and  wine  rejoiceth  the  heart  of  man. 
All  li^-ing  things  wait  upon  Him,  that  He  may  give  them  their 


236  THE  REALM   OF  FAITH. 

meat  in  due  season.  The  earth  is  full  of  His  riches ;  so  is  the 
great  and  wide  sea.  His  providential  care  is  over  all  the  crea- 
tures which  He  has  made.  He  heareth  the  young  ravens  when 
they  cry.  Not  a  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground  without  His  notice. 
The  hairs  of  our  head  are  numbered.  The  manifestations  of 
power  are  everywhere  His.  God  thundereth  marvellously  ;  the 
lightnings  go  before  Him.  He  giveth  snow  like  wool ;  He  scat- 
tereth  hoar  frost  like  ashes.  The  earth  trembles,  and  the  hills 
melt  like  wax  at  His  presence.  He  is  in  all,  and  through  all, 
and  over  all.     The  world  is  full  of  God. 

Man  is  no  longer  a  worthless  link  in  an  adamantine  chain  of 
necessity.  He  is  a  free  moral  intelligence,  bearing  in  every 
lineament  the  image  of  his  Maker.  Though  a  little  lower  than 
the  angels,  he  is  crowned  with  glory  and  honor,  and  dominion 
is  given  him  over  all  God's  works.  Nothing  is  too  great  for  his 
power.  He  putteth  forth  his  hand  upon  the  rock ;  he  over- 
turneth  the  mountains  by  their  roots  ;  he  cutteth  out  rivers 
among  the  rocks,  and  his  eye  seeth  every  precious  thing.  He 
bindeth  the  floods  from  overflowing,  and  the  thing  that  was 
hid  he  bringeth  to  light.  He  setteth  an  end  to  darkness,  and 
he  searcheth  out  all  perfection. 

In  his  higher  nature,  man  is  raised  above  all  terrestrial  analo- 
gies and  relationships.  He  possesses  a  soul  of  boundless  aspira- 
tions and  capacities,  made  for  endless  progress  in  knowledge,  in 
virtue,  and  in  happiness.  He  is  of  more  worth  than  the  whole 
shining  firmament  of  material  worlds.  Dear  to  the  Father,  be- 
loved of  the  Son  who  came  down  from  heaven  to  die  for  him,  min- 
istered to  and  rejoiced  over  by  angels,  enlightened,  instructed, 
and  comforted  by  God's  holy  Spirit,  he  is  but  a  sojourner  on 
the  earth ;  his  kindred  and  home  are  in  the  skies.     There  pre- 


THE  REALM  OF  FAITH.  237 

pared  mansions  in  his  Father's  house  wait  for  him.  Thither 
cherubic  bands  convoy  him.  As  the  pearly  gates  of  the  celes- 
tial city  open  to  admit  him,  a  deeper  thrill  of  joy  pervades 
heaven.  He  is  now  an  immortal  among  immortals.  Bodily 
impediments  and  incumbrances  have  been  laid  aside.  He  has 
no  longer  need  of  the  light  of  the  sun  or  the  moon.  He  is 
perpetually  bathed  in  the  effulgence  which  pours  from  the 
throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb.  His  material  wants  have 
ceased.  He  slakes  his  thirst  with  the  water  of  the  river  of  life. 
He  satisfies  his  hunger  with  the  immortal  food  that  grows  upon 
its  banks.  An  eternity  of  worship,  of  knowledge,  of  life,  of 
joy,  is  before  him. 

Such  are  the  pictures  presented  by  faith  on  the  one  hand, 
and  positivism  on  the  other.  Is  it  difficult  to  choose  between 
them  ? 

But  it  is  not  from  the  direct  influence  of  positivism,  deadly 
as  is  the  atmosphere  which  envelops  this  moral  upas,  that  we 
have  most  to  fear.  Its  aspect  and  surroundings  deter  and 
repel  us.  We  are  conscious  of  the  mephitic  vapors  with  which 
the  air  is  laden,  and  hasten  our  retreating  steps.  It  is  the  out- 
growths of  positive  knowledge,  —  the  forms  of  material  and 
social  development  that  have  sprung  from  its  marvelous  expan- 
sion during  the  past  century,  —  that  are  fraught  with  the 
greatest  perils.  Although  not  directly  attacking  our  faith,  they 
undermine  the  qualities  of  character  upon  which  it  depends,  and 
strengthen  every  opposing  principle.  They  intensify  the  desire 
for  material  good,  by  multiplying  indefinitely  the  means  of  its 
gratification.  They  make  life  worldly,  by  widening  immensur- 
ably  the  araa  of  our  knowledge  and  interests.  Steam,  the  tele- 
graph, and  press  have  endowed  us  with  a  sort  of  ubiquity.     No 


238  THE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

important  event;  physical  or  social,  political  or  financial,  can 
occur  in  any  part  of  the  civilized  world,  but  we  are  immediately 
cognizant  of  it.  There  is  spread  out  before  us  each  morning 
an  amount  and  variety  of  knowledge,  to  gather  which,  in  the 
palmiest  days  of  Greece  and  Rome,  would  have  required  a  life- 
time of  travel.  We  sit  in  our  own  parlors  and  view  at  leisure 
whatever  round  the  wide  earth  is  grand  or  beautiful,  in  nature 
and  art. 

Our  facilities  for  action  are  equally  increased.  The  work  of 
a  month  is  done  in  a  day.  The  experience  and  activities  of  a 
year  are  crowded  into  a  week.  A  decade  of  years  is  practically 
equivalent  to  a  lifetime.  Amid  the  whirl  of  occupation  and  the 
excitement  of  business,  the  demands  of  our  higher  natures  are 
unheeded.  There  is  no  time  for  thought  or  reflection,  no  leis- 
ure for  contemplation  and  self-communing,  deemed  by  the  old 
divines  so  important  a  means  of  religious  culture.  The  pleas- 
ures of  sense,  of  intellect,  and  of  taste,  in  forms  ever  new,  vie 
with  one  another  in  drowning  the  inward  sense  of  need  and 
quenching  all  spiritual  aspiration.  The  moral  intuitions,  those 
windows  of  the  soul,  become  darkened,  so  that  the  light  of 
heaven  is  no  longer  admitted  through  them.  If  two  thousand 
years  ago,  when  wealth  had  comparatively  few  uses,  it  was 
easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a 
rich  man  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  God,  what  must  be  its  perils 
at  the  present  day,  when,  through  the  multiplication  of  every 
species  of  art  and  device,  its  power  to  minister  to  the  lust  of  the 
flesh,  and  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life,  has  been  a 
hundred-fold  increased. 

It  is  not,  however,  in  the  gratifications  afforded  by  wealth, 
nor  its  ministry  to  every  form  of  worldliness,  that  lies  the  chief 


THE  REALM  OF  FAITH.  23^ 

danger.  Grave  as  this  is,  it  is  trifling  in  comparison  with  the 
perils  attending  the  struggle  for  its  acquisition.  The  desire  of 
wealth  becomes  intense  in  proportion  to  the  number  and  variety 
of  its  uses.  Never  before,  since  the  world  began,  were  these 
so  great ;  and  never  before  were  men  so  eager  and  absorbed  in 
its  pursuit.  No  labors  are  too  arduous,  no  sacrifices  too  great, 
no  devotion  too  unremitting,  if  but  its  visions  dance  before 
their  eyes.  When  lawful  means  fail,  unlawful  are  tried.  Man- 
hood and  conscience  for  a  time  remonstrate  ;  but  soon  their 
voice  is  silenced.  Interest  and  the  selfish  passions  become  the 
sole  guides  to  action.  The  requirements  of  honor  and  truth,  of 
justice  and  right,  are  alike  disregarded.  Sentiments  the  most 
atrocious,  and  principles  the  most  despicable,  are  avowed  and 
acted  upon.  Faith,  unable  to  endure  such  companionship,  takes 
her  upward  flight.  The  soul  becomes  darkened  and  deformed 
by  evil  passions.  It  has  exchanged  the  bright  plumage  of  an 
angel  for  the  bat- wings  of  a  devil. 

Such  is  the  moral  havoc  wrought  by  the  fruits  of  positive 
science  ;  by  that  abounding  wealth  which  an  explored  and  sub- 
jugated nature  is  pouring  into  the  lap  of  society.  And  is  there 
no  remedy  ?  As  our  knowledge  of  material  agents  and  forces 
is  extended,  and  these  are  brought  more  largely  into  the  service 
of  man,  must  the  evil  go  on  increasing  ?  Must  Christianity  at 
length  fall  through  the  instrumentalities  which  she  herself  has 
created?  Must  the  dove  of  Christian  faith  sink  down,  trans- 
fixed with  an  arrow  winged  by  a  feather  from  her  own  bosom  ? 
Does  God  defeat  His  own  purposes  ?  Does  He  call  into  exist- 
ence beneficent  agencies  simply  in  order  to  their  destruction  ? 
Has  He  in  these  last  days  opened  to  man  inexhaustible  resources 
of  happiness  and  power,  only  that  they  may  demoralize  and 


240  THE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

ruin  ?  Are  the  new-born  hopes  of  our  race  so  soon  and  so  mis- 
erably to  perish  ?  Is  there  no  corrective  in  the  treasures  of  di- 
vine wisdom  by  which  the  threatened  evil  may  be  averted  ?  No 
weapon  in  the  divine  armory  by  which  the  malign  power  may 
be  met  and  turned  backwards  ?  Has  God  suffered  the  world  to 
acquire  the  means  of  redoubling  its  assaults  on  the  hearts  of 
men,  without  adequate  provisions  for  counteracting  its  influ- 
ence ?  In  the  natural  world,  every  bane  has  its  antidote  ;  every 
disease  its  remedy.  Are  the  disorders  of  the  moral  world  alone 
uncared  for  ?  Are  there  here  no  antidotes,  no  remedies  ?  Yes, 
there  is  one  sovereign  remedy  adequate  to  the  cure  of  all  dis- 
eases ;  one  mighty  weapon  capable  of  beating  back  the  assaults 
of  all  enemies.  That  remedy,  that  weapon,  is  faith,  —  faith  in 
God,  and  faith  in  man  as  the  child  of  God,  and  destined  here- 
after to  dwell  with  Him  ;  faith  in  moral  law  and  the  divine  gov- 
ernment ;  faith  in  virtue  and  justice  and  goodness  and  truth ; 
faith  in  right  and  duty ;  faith  in  doing  unto  others  as  we  would 
that  they  should  do  unto  us  ;  faith  in  all  the  precepts  and  doc- 
trines of  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ ;  that  faith  which  gives 
substance  to  things  hoped  for,  and  is  the  evidence  of  things  not 
seen  ;  which  sets  the  two  worlds  in  their  proper  relations  to  one 
another ;  which  takes  off  the  glare  from  one,  and  dissolves  the 
mists  that  obscure  the  other  ;  which  dwarfs  one  into  its  native 
littleness,  and  discloses  the  other  in  its  true  magnitude  and  im- 
portance ;  which  reckons  character  above  station  ;  honor  from 
God  as  of  more  worth  than  the  good  opinion  of  men  ;  heavenly 
treasures  as  of  greater  value  than  earthly  possessions  :  in  whose 
estimation  the  gain  of  the  whole  world  would  be  but  a  poor 
equivalent  for  the  loss  of  the  soul ;  according  to  whose  teach- 
ings it  is  better  to  give  than  to  receive,  to  suffer  wrong  than  to 


THE  REALM   OF  FAITH.  241 

do  wrong,  to  be  a  poor  and  humble  disciple  of  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth than  the  possessor  of  all  earthly  riches  and  honors ;  which 
thinks  God  mightier  than  steam  or  electricity,  death  stronger 
than  title  deeds,  and  eternity  longer  than  time.  Faith,  such  a 
faith,  is  needed  in  the  individual  to  elevate  and  fortify  personal 
character,  and  to  impart  to  it  just  proportions  and  true  dignity. 
It  is  only  when  encased  in  the  mail  of  strong  convictions  that 
he  can  safely  or  successfully  engage  in  the  battles  of  life. 
Faith,  such  a  faith,  is  needed  to  permeate  and  purify  society; 
to  give  it  strength  and  courage,  and  the  will  to  rid  itself  of  the 
profligacy  and  corruption  with  which  its  highways  and  byways 
are  filled,  and  to  enable  it  to  convert  the  boundless  resources 
which  a  prodigal  nature  offers,  from  instruments  of  evil  into  the 
means  of  unlimited  good.  And  faith  is  adequate  to  this.  It 
can  cause  the  camel  to  go  through  the  eye  of  the  needle.  It 
deprives  wealth  of  its  power  to  harm  by  disclosing  its  proper 
value  and  true  uses ;  by  making  it  tributary  to  a  higher  and 
better  culture,  and  a  fairer  and  nobler  development  of  all  the 
humanities  ;  by  finding  in  it  the  means  not  only  of  alleviating 
physical  suffering,  but  of  causing  the  moral  desert  to  blossom 
as  the  rose,  and  preparing  and  fertilizing  the  fields  of  earth  for 
the  harvests  of  heaven.  Resources  however  limitless,  under 
such  guidance,  are  without  danger.  Were  Nature  to  uncover 
all  her  hidden  treasures  of  wealth  and  power,  and  lay  them  at 
the  feet  of  man,  thus  strengthened  and  fortified,  he  would  be 
able  not  only  to  bear  the  moral  strain,  but  to  turn  this  mighty 
accession  of  means  to  the  direct  advancement  of  the  highest 
interests  of  the  race. 

The  special  need,  the  fundamental  necessity,  of  our  modern 
civilization,  —  that  which  alone  can  give  it  permanence,  —  with- 

16 


242  "^'HE  REALM  OF  FAITH. 

out  which  it  will  only  repeat  with  exaggerated  features  the  story 
of  all  past  civilizations,  is  not  popular  education,  nor  free  insti- 
tutions, nor  republican  forms  of  government,  nor  the  harnessing 
of  nature's  forces  to  the  car  of  human  progress,  but  faith,  a 
vital,  operative  faith,  pervading  all  classes  of  society,  and  laying 
the  only  sure  foundation  for  self-government,  the  essential  condi- 
tion of  true  liberty,  and  continued  social  improvement.  What- 
ever tends  to  unsettle  the  moral  and  religious  convictions  of  men 
loosens  to  that  extent  the  bonds  of  society,  and  prepares  the 
way  for  disorder,  revolution,  and  anarchy,  to  end  in  the  strong 
repression  of  despotism.  Whatever  strengthens  those  convic- 
tions tends  to  impart  stability  to  the  social  fabric,  and  enable  it 
to  resist  alike  the  hand  of  violence  and  the  shocks  of  time.  The 
work  of  the  Christian  teacher  and  preacher  is  more  important 
than  that  of  the  philosopher,  or  statesman,  or  scholar.  Back  in 
the  depths  of  the  soul  he  reaches  the  springs  of  action ;  they 
only  direct  its  course.  His  healing  touch  is  applied  to  the 
sources  of  moral  and  social  life  ;  they  only  shape  the  channels 
in  which  it  shall  flow.  It  is  his  office  to  promote  the  temper 
and  quicken  the  aspirations  which  lead  to  progress,  and  which 
alone  render  permanent  progress  possible ;  they  only  open 
paths,  remove  obstacles,  and  provide  facilities  for  the  advancing 
movement.  He  draws  his  most  cogent  arguments  from  the  other 
world ;  their  horizon  is  limited  to  this.  He  holds  in  his  hand 
a  power  mightier  than  king  or  potentate  ever  wielded,  —  these 
alter  only  the  condition  of  men  ;  through  his  instrumentality 
their  natures  are  changed ;  a  power  greater  than  science  or  art 
can  boast,  —  these  affect  only  a  brief  existence  ;  upon  his  min- 
istry waits  everlasting  life  ;  a  power  which  all  earthly  agencies 
combined  cannot  equal,  —  the  power  of  a  living,  abiding,  over- 
coming faith. 


MAN  A  CREATIVE  FIRST   CAUSE.* 


The  thesis  of  Mr.  Hazard,  on  first  announcement,  is  startling 
and  paradoxical.  We  are  accustomed  to  regard  creative  power 
as  exclusively  an  attribute  of  Deity.  He  alone  can  call  into 
being  that  which  was  not.  Man's  power  is  limited  to  effecting 
changes  in  what  already  exists.  Actual  creation,  or  the  pro- 
duction of  something  out  of  nothing,  is  so  difficult  of  conception 
that  some  philosophers  are  led  to  question  its  possibihty,  and  to 
limit  the  work  of  God  to  the  construction  of  the  universe  from 
preexisting  materials.  Sir  William  Hamilton  takes  this  ground. 
He  says  matter  must  either  be  coeternal  with  God,  or  God  must 
have  produced  it  from  his  own  substance.  We  cannot,  he  adds, 
suppose  the  sum  of  being  ever  to  have  been  greater  or  less  than 
it  is  now.  Addition  to  it  or  subtraction  from  it  is  alike  unthink- 
able. All  the  being  now  in  existence  must  have  always  existed, 
either  actually  or  potentially.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  man  can- 
not be  regarded  by  Mr.  Hazard  as,  in  this  primary  and  absolute 
sense,  a  creative  first  cause. 

But  if  we  confine  the  idea  of  creation  to  mere  changes  of 
form,  such  as  we  see  in  progress  everywhere  around  us,  and,  as 

^  Man  a  Creative  First  Cause.  Two  Discourses  delivered  at  Concord,  Mass.,  July, 
1882,  by  Rowland  G.  Hazard,  LL.  D.,  author  of  Language  and  other  Papers,  etc., 
etc.     Second  edition.     Boston  :  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.     1884. 


244  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

we  learn  from  the  investigations  of  science,  have  been  going 
forward  from  the  remotest  epochs  of  the  past,  man  could  with 
scarcely  more  propriety  be  styled  a  creative  first  cause.  There 
are  forces  intimately  connected  with  matter,  upon  whose  varied 
activity  the  modifications  which  it  undergoes  immediately  de- 
pend. These  forces,  although  convertible  into  one  another,  are 
believed  to  be  as  indestructible  as  the  matter  in  which  they  ap- 
pear. Man  can  neither  add  anything  to  them  nor  take  anything 
from  them.  The  creation  of  any  of  these  forces  is  as  impossible 
to  him  as  the  creation  of  matter.  In  fact,  matter  is  known  to 
us  only  as  the  seat  and  the  vehicle  of  these  forces.  All  its 
changes  from  rest  to  motion  and  from  motion  to  rest  —  all  its 
myriad  transformations  —  are  due  to  these  forces. 

If,  then,  we  restrict  the  idea  of  creation  to  the  mere  transfor- 
mations of  matter,  man  can  have  but  little  part  in  it.  The  most 
he  can  do  is  to  supply  the  conditions  for  bringing  the  required 
forces  in  action.  He  may  hoist  the  gate  of  the  water-mill,  or 
open  the  valve  of  the  steam-engine,  or  apply  the  match  to  the 
cannon.    It  is  the  forces  thus  liberated  by  him  that  do  the  work. 

But  our  author  is  an  ii^ealist.  He  does  not  allow  the  exist- 
ence of  matter  as  a  separate  and  distinct  entity,  or  the  reality  of 
the  forces  which  make  their  appearance  in  connection  with  it. 
All  the  phenomena  usually  ascribed  to  it  he  refers  to  the  im- 
mediate exertion  of  the  divine  will.  Ideas  existing^  in  the  mind 
of  God  are  made  by  Him  real  and  palpable  to  all  finite  intelli- 
gences. Creation  is  thus  a  perpetual  work  —  the  ceaseless  im- 
pressing of  the  divine  thought  upon  the  consciousness  of  per- 
cipient beings.  Surely  the  slight  control  which  man  has  acquired 
over  nature  through  the  study  of  her  laws  bears  no  resemblance 
to  this  ! 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  245 

But  Mr.  Hazard  is  not  yet  content.  He  rises  to  a  still  bolder 
and  more  startling  proposition.  It  is  not  enough  that  man  is  a 
creative  first  cause.  In  the  sphere  of  his  own  moral  nature,  he 
is  a  supreme,  creative  first  cause.  His  wiU,  in  which  the  crea- 
tive power  resides,  is  his  own.  No  extrinsic  force  can  reach  it. 
He  is  self-moved  and  self-governed.  He  always  acts  or  refrains 
from  action  in  accordance  with  his  own  choices.  He  is  free  in 
willing,  as  God  is  free ;  free  as  it  is  possible  for  any  agent  to 
be.  Under  the  guidance  of  the  aesthetic  and  moral  sense,  he 
may  create  within  himself  a  world  more  perfect  than  the  world 
made  known  to  him  through  the  senses.  In  this  creation,  like 
God  in  His  creation,  he  is  supreme.  He  is  subject  to  no  limi- 
tations, as  in  the  material  world,  either  from  his  own  nature  or 
from  forces  without  himself.  By  the  habitual  contemplation 
of  this  inner  and  more  perfect  world,  and  by  constant  effort  to 
bring  his  life  into  harmony  with  it,  he  may  build  for  himself 
a  pure,  virtuous,  noble  character.  Whatever  other  advantages 
metaphysics  may  offer,  this  is  their  chief  use  and  highest  end. 

The  propositions  which  we  have  briefly  indicated  are  treated 
by  Mr.  Hazard  as  not  doubtful  nor  problematical.  They  are 
made  to  rest  upon  premises  which,  certain  definitions  being  ac- 
cepted, we  are  compelled  to  admit.  In  surveying  the  ground  of 
these  premises  and  in  tracing  the  logical  sequences  from  them, 
he  shows  a  breadth  and  acuteness  of  vision  not  surpassed  in  any 
of  his  previous  writings.  He  treats  the  subtle  questions  con- 
nected with  the  will  and  the  almost  equally  perplexing  difficul- 
ties involved  in  the  doctrine  of  causation,  with  a  keenness  of 
analysis  and  a  delicacy  of  discrimination  which  might  have  saved 
Edwards  and  Mill,  two  of  the  ablest  thinkers  of  their  times,  from 
serious  error.     Although  past  fourscore  years  of  age,  his  intel- 


246  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

lectual  eye  is  not  dimmed  nor  his  mental  force  abated.  The 
language,  too,  is  as  admirable  as  the  thought.  It  possesses  in 
an  eminent  degree  the  two  chief  requisites  of  a  philosophical 
style,  clearness  and  precision.  If  he  is  not  understood,  the 
fault  is  not  his,  but  in  the  reader. 

Curiously  enough,  we  chanced  to  be  reading  a  theologico- 
philosophical  work  of  Mr.  Mulford,  —  "  The  RepubHc  of  God," 
—  when,  by  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Hazard,  this  little  volume  was 
put  into  our  hands.  On  laying  aside  the  former  and  opening 
the  latter,  we  were  strongly  impressed  with  the  difference  be- 
tween the  two  books.  In  one  we  found  propositions  freely 
enunciated,  appealing  for  support  to  principles  assumed  to  be 
axiomatic,  but  to  few  of  which  the  mind  yielded  an  unqualified 
assent ;  in  the  other,  premises  carefully  laid  down  and  conclu- 
sions logically  derived  from  them.  It  was  like  passing  out  from 
a  region  of  mists  and  shadows  into  a  land  of  unclouded  day. 
Having  placed  upon  a  sure  foundation  his  ethical  doctrines,  Mr. 
Hazard,  in  applying  them,  does  not  fear  to  draw  upon  the  re- 
sources of  an  exuberant  imagination.  In  this  part  of  the  work 
occur  passages  of  singular  grace  and  beauty. 

The  propositions  maintained  by  Mr.  Hazard  are  four  :  1. 
Man  is  a  cause  ;  2.  Man  is  a  first  cause ;  3.  Man  is  a  creative 
first  cause ;  4.  Man,  in  the  sphere  of  his  moral  nature,  is  a  su- 
preme, creative  first  cause. 

The  first  of  these  propositions  would  seem  to  require  no  proof. 
We  are  conscious  of  putting  forth  effort,  and  we  observe  the 
change  produced  by  that  effort.  We  infer  by  the  most  exten- 
sive and  satisfactory  of  all  inductions,  that  other  men  put  forth 
effort,  and  we  see  it  in  like  manner  followed  by  change.  This 
effort  is,  in  the  truest  sense,  the  cause  of  the  change.     It  is  not 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  247 

the  occasion  of  the  change  merely,  it  is  not  simply  one  of  the 
conditions  of  the  change,  it  is  the  true  cause  —  the  causa  vera 
—  of  the  change.  I  lift,  for  instance,  a  ten-pound  weight,  and 
hold  it  poised  in  my  hand.  In  doing  this,  I  put  forth  an  effort 
of  exactly  ten  pounds,  and  by  that  effort  exactly  balance  the 
downward  tendency  of  the  ten-pound  weight.  The  effort  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  the  downward  tendency  of  the  weight. 
It  is  wholly  expended  in  resisting  that  downward  tendency. 
The  effort,  therefore,  is  the  true,  efficient  cause  of  the  suspension 
of  the  ten-pound  weight,  and  is  exactly  measured  by  the  ten- 
dency of  that  weight  downwards. 

Again,  the  laborer  takes  a  sack  of  grain  and  transports  it  a 
mile.  In  this  case  the  effort  is  greater  than  the  resistance  of 
the  sack  to  transportation.  Besides  bearing  the  sack,  the  la- 
borer must  carry  himself,  a  weight,  it  may  be,  greater  than  that 
of  the  sack.  The  effort  of  the  laborer  is  the  true,  efficient  cause 
of  the  transportation  of  the  sack,  but  is  not  measured  by  its  re- 
sistance to  transportation.  Only  a  part  of  the  effort  is  expended 
in  carrying  the  sack ;  another  part  is  expended  in  supporting 
the  weight  while  carrying  it,  and  in  carrying  himself.  Still  the 
laborer  is  the  efficient  cause  of  the  transportation  of  the  sack. 

Again,  the  engineer  opens  a  valve  and  lets  steam  on  the  pis- 
ton of  the  locomotive,  and  quickly  the  train  of  cars  attached  to 
it  is  in  rapid  motion.  In  this  case,  is  the  engineer  the  cause 
of  this  movement  ?  Does  the  force  required  for  the  continued 
motion  of  the  train  originate  with  him  ?  He  has  simply  opened 
a  valve.  He  has  put  forth  an  effort  equivalent  to  the  resistance 
of  the  valve  to  being  opened.  He  is  the  true  and  efficient  cause 
of  the  opening  of  the  valve.  That  is  all.  Other  causes  of  great 
energy  have  come  into  action  by  which  the  train  is  hurled  along 


248  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

the  track.  Over  these  causes  he  has  no  control.  He  can  neither 
add  to  nor  take  from  their  energy.  When  the  proper  condi- 
tions are  supplied,  their  action  is  instantaneous  and  inevitable. 

A  few  years  ago  an  effort  was  made  to  widen  and  deepen  the 
passage  in  the  East  River  known  as  Hell  Gate.  The  engineer 
to  whom  the  work  was  committed,  conceived  the  idea  of  perfo- 
rating the  bottom  and  sides  of  the  channel  with  drilled  holes, 
sufficiently  large  and  deep  to  receive  heavy  charges  of  dynamite, 
and  then  of  firing  these  at  the  same  instant  by  means  of  elec- 
tricity. Having  made  all  his  preparations  for  carrying  out  this 
idea,  he  gave  public  notice  of  the  day  and  hour  and  minute  when 
the  terrific  explosion  might  be  expected.  In  the  presence  of  a 
great  multitude  of  spectators,  his  little  daughter,  away  from  all 
danger,  touched  a  spring  that  closed  the  galvanic  circle,  and 
instantly  huge  masses  of  rock  were  torn  from  their  base  and 
thrown  upwards,  as  if  by  the  shock  of  an  earthquake.  What 
was  the  cause  of  this  majestic  phenomenon  ?  Was  it  the  touch 
of  the  child  ?  Was  that  touch  the  equivalent  of  the  mighty 
forces  brought  into  action  ?  Of  course  not.  The  child's  touch 
was  the  equivalent  of  the  slight  resistance  of  the  spring  that 
closed  the  circle.  It  was  the  true  and  efficient  cause  of  the  clos- 
ing of  the  circle,  —  only  of  that.  For  the  gigantic  forces 
evolved  in  the  explosion  we  must  look  to  the  energies  indissol- 
ubly  connected  with  matter. 

But  let  us  return  to  the  instance  of  causative  power  first  sug- 
gested. Take  the  effort  of  which  I  am  conscious  in  supporting 
in  my  hand  a  ten-pound  weight.  Bodily  effort,  as  ordinarily 
understood,  takes  in,  besides  the  volition,  the  swell  and  play  of 
muscles  of  which  we  are  at  the  same  time  conscious  through 
what  has  been  named  the  muscular  sense.    Effort  is  not  synony- 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  249 

mous  with  volition,  as  Mr.  Hazard  seems  to  suppose.  It  is  voli- 
tion and  something  more.  It  is  the  embodiment  of  volition  in 
action.  The  question  then  becomes,  Is  the  volition  by  which 
the  effort  is  made  the  equivalent  of  the  weight  supported? 
Suppose  the  arm  to  be  paralyzed.  I  may  will  as  vigorously  as 
before,  but  the  arm  is  not  raised,  the  weight  is  not  supported. 
I  am  incapable  of  effort  with  the  arm.  Something  more  than 
volition  is  required  to  effect  any  outward  change.  The  will  must 
have  a  prepared  instrument.  Without  such  an  instrument  it  can 
do  nothing ;  it  is  powerless.  In  ordinary  effort  who  can  tell 
how  much  of  the  work  done  is  due  to  the  volition  and  how  much 
to  the  forces  liberated  in  and  applied  by  the  instrument  ?  We 
must  be  careful  not  to  mistake  the  child's  touch  for  the  cause  of 
the  explosion.  The  touch  of  the  will  in  ordinary  effort  may 
bear  as  slight  a  ratio  to  the  work  accomplished.  Still,  the  will 
is  a  force,  and  man  has  causative  power  —  is  a  true  cause,  how- 
ever insignificant  a  one  when  compared  with  the  mighty  ener- 
gies which  pervade  his  own  frame  and  extend  through  all  na- 
ture. It  is  these  material  forces  without  him  and  within  him 
that  man  calls  to  his  aid  when  anything  is  to  be  done,  and  it  is 
through  their  agency  that  the  work  is  accomplished. 

According  to  the  received  teachings  of  science,  these  forces 
are  all  resolvable  into  two  kinds  of  energy :  kinetic  energy,  or 
the  energy  of  moving  bodies,  mechanical  force  ;  and  the  energy 
of  position,  or  chemical  force,  manifesting  itself  in  forms  of  at- 
traction and  repulsion.  These  two  kinds  of  energy  are  convert- 
ible into  one  another.  In  the  never-ceasing  phenomena  trans- 
piring around  us  they  are  undergoing  such  conversion,  their 
sum  always  remaining  the  same.  The  principal  agents  by  which 
this  conversion  is  effected  are  the  leaves  of  plants  and  the  lungs 


250  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

of  animals.  The  great  office  of  the  vegetable  kingdom  is  to 
change  kinetic  energy,  as  it  pours  from  the  sun,  into  the  energy 
of  position ;  which  latter  is  in  turn  changed  back  again  into 
specific  forms  of  kinetic  energy  by  the  animal  kingdom.  Each 
of  the  two  kingdoms  thus  supplies  food  and  the  possibility  of 
life  to  the  other.  Besides  the  respiration  of  animals,  there  are 
processes  of  decay  everywhere  going  forward,  which  also  yield 
food  for  plants.  The  sun  is  the  primary  cause  of  all  the  trans- 
formations which  are  taking  place  on  the  surface  of  our  planet. 
According  as  he  shines  or  withholds  his  beams,  he  spreads  over 
it  a  sheet  of  perennial  verdure,  or  leaves  it  to  ice  and  barrenness. 
In  the  sun  is  stored  a  supply  of  force  which  the  geologic  ages 
have  failed  to  exhaust.  Should  it  ever  be  expended  by  diffusion 
through  space,  all  change  upon  the  earth  would  cease.  It  might 
still  turn  daily  upon  its  axis  and  trace  its  annual  course  along 
the  same  orbit,  but  not  as  now,  clothed  with  beauty  and  the 
home  of  innumerable  forms  of  life,  but  shrouded  in  darkness 
and  locked  in  frost,  the  abode  of  eternal  silence  and  death. 

Mr.  Hazard,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  does  not  accept 
this  view  of  nature.  He  does  not  allow  to  matter  any  causal 
power.  He  doubts  the  persistence  of  the  first  kind  of  energy, — 
the  energy  of  moving  bodies.  His  words  are,  "  If  the  tendency 
of  matter  is  to  stop,  then  it  can  have  in  itself  no  power  or 
force  whatever  ;  "  and  again,  "  I  confess  myself  unable  to  find 
any  solution  of  this  radical  question  ;  but  until  it  is  settled,  I 
do  not  see  how  matter,  though  in  motion,  can  properly  be  re- 
garded as  a  force." 

He  thus  calls  in  question  the  postulate  by  which,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  law  of  gravitation.  Sir  Isaac  Newton  explains  the 
orbital  motions  of  the  planets,  and  upon  which  La  Place  built 


MAN  A   CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  251 

his  "  Mecanique  Celeste."  The  second  kind  of  energy  of 
which  philosophers  tell  us  —  the  energy  of  position  —  he 
•wholly  ignores. 

For  all  the  forces  that  appear  in  matter  he  substitutes  the 
energy  of  the  supreme  will.  According  to  him,  the  explosion 
in  Hell  Gate  was  the  simple  thought  of  God,  timed  by  the 
imagined  touch  of  the  child,  made  palpable  to  the  mind  of  each 
one  of  the  multitude  who  supposed  they  were  looking  on  and 
witnessing  an  unusual  display  of  force. 

"  We  know  nothing  of  matter,"  he  affirms,  *'  except  by  the 
sensations  which  we  impute  to  its  agency,  and  these  sensations 
are  as  fully  accounted  for  by  the  hypothesis  that  they  are  the 
thought,  the  imagery,  of  the  mind  of  God,  directly  imparted  or 
made  palpable  to  our  finite  minds,  as  by  that  of  a  distinct  ex- 
ternal substance  in  which  He  has  embodied  this  thought  and 
imagery."  On  this  hypothesis,  the  action  of  the  will,  of  what- 
ever nature  it  may  be,  is  transferred  from  the  forces  of  mat- 
ter to  the  mind  of  God.  God,  instead  of  these  forces,  does  the 
work.  A  man  travels,  as  he  imagines,  and  visits  different  cities. 
God,  in  attendance,  manifests  to  him,  makes  real  to  his  con- 
sciousness, whatever  he  imagines  that  he  sees,  by  awakening  in 
him  the  proper  sensations.  God  is  doing  this  for  every  human 
being  when,  by  change  of  place,  he  takes  in  new  objects  of 
sight.  Nay,  He  is  doing  the  same  for  all  living  things  which 
have  feeling  and  will,  in  all  their  infinite  variety  of  movement. 
At  the  bidding  of  a  million  of  human  wills,  God  devised  and 
daily  makes  palpable  to  the  multitudes  who  pass  over  it  the 
marvelous  structure  which,  spanning  the  East  River,  joins  the 
city  of  Brooklyn  to  the  city  of  New  York.  In  the  same  way 
He  reared  the  elevated  railways  of  the  latter  city,  and  every  day 


252  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

renews  the  vision,  with  cars  whirling  along  the  iron  tracks,  to 
half  its  population.  The  young  lions  roar  and  seek  their  prey 
from  God.  He  satisfieth  them  by  awakening  the  sensation  of 
a  repast  upon  human  flesh  or  the  flesh  of  some  animal.  The 
ravens  cry  unto  God,  and  He  feedeth  them  in  like  manner  with 
sensations.  The  wants  of  the  little  ant,  so  active  and  indus- 
trious, are  provided  for  in  a  similar  way.  The  oyster,  which  is 
regarded  by  the  author  as  "  a  creative  first  cause,"  and  justly 
so  on  his  definition  of  creation,  on  raising  its  movable  valve 
to  take  in  food,  is  obliged  to  be  content  with  its  imagined 
taste. 

Idealism  does  not  increase  the  causative  power  of  the  will. 
According  to  this  theory,  the  imagination  of  the  desired  change 
is  awakened  in  the  mind  by  the  direct  act  of  God.  Accord- 
ing to  the  theory  ordinarily  received,  the  change  itself  is  pro- 
duced by  the  forces  inseparably  connected  with  matter.  On 
neither  theory  is  anything  or  can  anything  be  done  by  the 
unaided  will.  On  both  theories,  however  great  a  deduction  it 
may  be  necessary  to  make  from  the  apparent  efficiency  of  the 
will,  it  has  a  certain  part  in  the  production  of  changes  in  the 
outward  world.  This  is  true  in  the  case  of  idealism,  if  we  sup- 
pose that  the  human  will  acts  causatively  upon  the  divine  will ; 
that  it  is  not  merely  an  antecedent  to  the  volition  of  God,  but 
is  the  true  and  efficient  cause  of  that  volition.  Mr.  Hazard 
virtually  says  this,  and  it  is  necessarily  implied  in  his  teach- 
ing. For  if  the  human  volition  were  a  mere  condition  of  the 
change  produced  by  God,  and  had  no  agency  in  the  production 
of  that  change,  it  could  not  then  be  regarded  as  the  "  causa 
causans,^''  the  original  and  efficient  cause  of  the  change.  With 
this  understanding,  therefore,  whether  we  adopt   idealism   or 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  253 

realism,  man  is  a  cause  in  the  truest  and  strictest  sense  of  the 
word. 

2.  Man  is  a  first  cause.  By  this  is  meant,  not  that  he  is  first 
in  point  of  time,  but  that  he  is  an  original  and  self-acting 
cause,  in  contradistinction  from  a  cause  that  is  acted  upon,  and 
simply  transmits  that  action.  The  question  really  is  whether 
man  is  a  free  agent,  or  whether  his  actions  are  controlled  by  a 
power  without  himself,  as  absolute  as  that  which  governs  the 
course  of  physical  events.  Or,  in  other  words,  whether  the 
mind  is  free  in  willing,  or  whether  its  volitions  are  determined 
by  something  beyond  and  outside  of  itself. 

To  this  question  there  can  be  but  one  answer.  The  mind  is 
free  in  willing.  Its  voHtions  are  determined  by  itself.  They 
are  its  own  unrestrained,  uncontrolled  acts.  This  is  the  high- 
est and  most  perfect  freedom  which  we  are  able  to  conceive. 

President  Edwards,  from  the  controversial  character  of  his 
work  on  the  mil,  was  led  to  consider  another  and  different 
question,  "  Is  the  will  free  ?  "  This  was  supposed  by  his  oppo- 
nents to  be  essential  to  human  accountability.  He  therefore 
argues  this  question,  and  maintains  that  the  will  is  not  free  or 
self-determined  in  its  action  ;  that  a  man's  volitions  are  con- 
trolled by  the  man  himself ;  that  they  depend  upon  his  charac- 
ter, and  are  consequently  determined  by  that.  The  will,  there- 
fore, is  not  free. 

Such  is  the  argument  of  President  Edwards.  It  is,  as  it  was 
intended  to  be,  a  reditctio  ad  ahsurdum.  It  contemplates  a 
freedom  which  is  impossible,  —  a  freedom  of  the  will,  —  the  will 
acting  independently  of  all  motives,  volition  without  choice,  or 
preference,  or  end.  It  is  of  the  very  nature  of  will  to  act  from 
motives  and  towards  ends.     It  is  this  which  distinguishes  the 


254  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

action  of  intelligent,  voluntary  agents  from  that  of  insensate 
matter.  "  A  constrained  or  coerced  willing/'  Mr.  Hazard  very 
justly  and  acutely  remarks,  "  a  willing  that  is  not  free,  is  not 
even  conceivable.  The  idea  is  so  incongruous  that  any  attempt 
to  express  it  results  in  the  solecism  of  our  willing  when  we  are 
not  willing."  But  when  the  proper  question  is  put.  Is  man  a 
free  agent  ?  and  not.  Is  his  will  free  ?  we  are  compelled  to 
answer  in  the  affirmative.  His  volitions  are  determined  by  him- 
self, and  this  is  the  most  perfect  freedom  that  any  being  can 
have. 

President  Edwards  lays  too  much  stress  upon  what  he  calls 
the  strongest  motive.  He  seems  to  forget  that  into  every  mo- 
tive there  enter  two  factors,  —  the  object  to  be  obtained,  and 
the  desire  on  the  part  of  the  individual  to  obtain  it ;  and  that 
the  latter  is  the  determining  factor.  To  say  that  a  man  is 
always  governed  by  the  strongest  motive  is  simply  to  say  that 
a  man  always  adopts  the  course  of  action  to  which  he  is  most 
strongly,  inclined,  or  which,  all  things  considered,  he  chooses 
and  prefers  to  any  alternate  course  of  action.  And  this  again 
is  the  same  as  saying  that  a  man  free  from  external  restraint 
will,  within  the  limits  of  his  power,  act  just  as  at  the  time  he 
chooses  to  act,  —  which  is  the  highest  and  most  perfect  freedom 
that  we  can  suppose  any  person  to  possess,  the  highest  and  most 
perfect  freedom  conceivable. 

The  principle  of  causality,  one  of  the  clearest  intuitions  of 
the  human  intelligence,  precludes  the  supposition  of  a  larger 
liberty  of  action.  It  connects  conduct  with  character  by  an  in- 
dissoluble tie.  Even  if  we  could  suppress  this  intuition  so  far 
as  it  relates  to  volitions,  and  set  them  wholly  free  from  depend- 
ence upon  the  agent,  instead    of   enlarging   his   freedom   we 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  255 

should  destroy  it  altogether.  Every  effort  to  establish  a  more 
perfect  liberty  than  this,  —  which  is  conceded  by  all,  —  that  a 
man  is  free  to  do  just  as  he  chooses,  his  choice  depending  upon 
his  character,  is  a  vain  struggle  against  the  causal  judgment. 

It  is  because  a  man's  conduct  depends  upon  his  character  — 
grows  out  of  it  —  that  he  is  responsible  for  his  voluntary  acts. 
Were  there  not  a  causal  tie  between  the  two,  between  character 
and  conduct,  a  man  would  be  no  more  accountable  for  his  own 
acts  than  for  the  acts  of  his  neighbor.  This  intimate  connec- 
tion between  what  a  man  is  and  how  he  conducts  himself  is 
recognized  in  the  self-reproach  inflicted  when  he  is  conscious  of 
having  behaved  unworthily.  All  the  phenomena  of  conscience 
recognize  such  a  connection. 

It  might  be  desired,  if  it  were  possible,  that  a  man  should 
have  direct  voluntary  power  over  himself,  —  that  he  should  be 
able  to  change  a  bad  character  into  a  good  one  and  a  good 
character  into  one  still  better,  by  simply  willing  it.  But  such 
is  not  the  prerogative  of  will.  It  can  only  act  upon  character 
indirectly,  by  long  and  continued  exertion,  under  the  guidance 
of  the  moral  sense,  as  shown  by  Mr.  Hazard  in  another  part  of 
his  work. 

In  like  manner  the  agriculturist  might  be  glad,  if  such  a 
thing  were  possible,  to  change  his  rocky  and  barren  lands  into 
rich  and  fertile  fields,  by  simply  willing  the  transformation.  But 
he  knows  that  it  is  not  within  his  power.  He  is  therefore  con- 
tent to  take  the  more  roundabout  course ;  to  remove  one  after 
another  the  rocky  obstructions,  and  gradually  mellow  and  en- 
rich the  soil  by  careful  tillage.  He  in  this  way  arrives  at  the 
same  result  as  if  the  change  were  under  the  immediate  control 
of  his  will,  or  as  if  it  were  caused  by  the  direct  act  of  God. 


256  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

There  is  in  reality  no  difference  between  President  Edwards 
and  Mr.  Hazard  as  to  the  nature  of  the  connection  between 
a  voluntary  agent  and  his  unrestrained  acts.  It  is  the  connec- 
tion between  cause  and  effect,  —  an  intelligent  and  free  cause 
acting  out  itself,  and  thus  manifesting  its  true  character.  It  is 
for  this  reason  that  such  an  agent  is  held  responsible  for  his 
acts,  and  is  praised  or  blamed  on  account  of  them.  Did  not  his 
acts  proceed  from  himself  and  reveal  his  character,  he  would 
not  be  a  fit  subject  for  moral  government. 

These  acknowledged  masters  of  thought  agree  in  respect  to 
all  that  is  essential  to  human  freedom  and  human  accountabil- 
ity. They  aHke  maintain  that  man  is  a  free  agent,  having  as 
perfect  liberty  of  action  as  it  is  possible  to  conceive,  and  that 
at  the  same  time  there  is  a  causal  tie  between  his  character  and 
his  conduct,  such  as  to  make  him  accountable  for  the  latter, 
and  therefore  a  fit  subject  for  government  by  rewards  and 
punishments.  President  Edwards  places  "  Freedom  of  the 
Will "  on  the  title-page  of  his  work,  and  conducts  the  dis- 
cussion throughout  under  that  heading.  Most  of  his  argu- 
ments are  designed  for  the  refutation  of  that  doctrine.  He 
might  have  saved  himself  much  tedious  reasoning  by  stating 
at  the  commencement  the  true  and  proper  question,  "  Is  man 
a  free  agent?"  instead  of  the  improper  and  almost  unmean- 
ing question,  "  Is  the  will  free  ? "  He  was  aware  of  the 
incongruity  of  the  language  of  the  question,  and  particularly 
points  it  out,  but  conformed  to  the  usage  of  those  whose  argu- 
ments he  met.  For  this  reason  his  work  lacks  the  clearness 
and  demonstrative  vigor  which  characterize  the  briefer  pages  of 
Mr.  Hazard. 

But  this  perfect  liberty  of  action  does  not  put  all  men  on  the 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  267 

same  footing  before  God.  A  man  is  free  to  do  as  he  chooses, 
but  his  choices  will  depend  in  part  upon  his  original  constitu- 
tion, and  in  part  upon  his  acquired  habits  of  thought,  feeling, 
and  action,  or,  in  other  words,  upon  his  character,  which  is  the 
resultant  of  all  these  combined.  His  original  constitution  was 
not  of  his  own  choosing.  Whatever  it  may  have  been,  he  is  not 
responsible  for  it ;  he  is  only  responsible  for  acting  according 
to  his  best  lights  under  it.  For  his  acquired  habits  of  thought, 
feeling,  and  action,  by  which  the  nature  given  him  has  become 
modified,  he  is  to  a  certain  extent,  but  by  no  means  wholly, 
responsible.  It  is  these  differences  among  men,  from  the  very 
start,  together  with  their  different  surroundings,  that  make 
obedience  to  the  moral  law  more  or  less  easy,  more  or  less  diffi- 
cult. It  is  their  freedom  to  act  as  they  choose  that  causes  these 
differences  to  appear  in  their  conduct.  If  a  man's  volitions  were 
determined  by  a  power  without  himself,  he  would  be  incapable 
of  obedience  or  virtue,  and  whatever  his  conduct,  he  would  be 
no  more  a  subject  for  praise  or  blame  than  the  material  ele- 
ments around  him. 

The  second  proposition  of  Mr.  Hazard,  therefore,  we  think 
fully  established.  Man  is  a  first  cause,  first  in  the  sense  that 
he  is  not  a  cause  acted  upon,  and  simply  transmitting  that 
action,  but  an  original,  voluntary,  and  self-acting  cause,  capable 
of  starting  within  the  sphere  of  his  activity  a  new  order  of 
events,  which  but  for  him  would  never  have  taken  place.  The 
argument,  so  far  as  I  see,  is  unassailable,  the  conclusion  incon- 
trovertible ;  and  this,  too,  whether  idealism  or  realism  be  ac- 
cepted as  the  theory  of  the  universe. 

J    3.  The  third  proposition  of  Mr.  Hazard,  that  man  is  a  crea- 
tive first  cause,  with  his  definition  of  creation,  follows  necessarily 

17 


258  MAN  A   CUE  ATI  VE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

from  what  has  gone  before.  Creation  is  defined  to  be  the  al- 
teration of  the  future  by  an  intelligent,  voluntary  effort.  No 
power  can  change  the  past.  "  Every  being,"  he  says,  "  that 
wills  is  a  creative  first  cause,  an  independent  power  in  the  uni- 
verse, freely  exerting  its  individual  energies  to  make  the  future 
different  from  what  it  would  otherwise  have  been."  "  The  cre- 
ation of  this  future  for  each  successive  moment  is  the  composite 
result  of  the  efforts  of  every  being  that  wills."  "  Whatever 
its  grade  of  intelligence,  if  it  make  successful  effort  to  produce 
change,  it  so  far  acts  as  an  original  creative  cause  in  producing 
the  future.  The  power  and  knowledge  of  such  a  being  may  be 
very  limited,  but  within  the  limits  of  these  attributes  its  action 
is  as  free  as  if  it  were  omniscient  and  omnipotent."  "  Its  effort 
must  be  to  make  the  future  different  from  what,  but  for  such 
effort,  it  would  be.  Such  a  being  is  a  co-worker  with  God  and 
other  connative  beings  in  creating  the  future,  which  is  always 
the  composite  result  of  the  action  of  all  such  beings."  "  If 
we  suppose  an  oyster  with  no  other  efficient  power  than  that  of 
moving  its  shell,  and  with  the  knowledge  of  only  one  mode  of 
doing  this,  and  this  instinctive,  still,  when  by  its  own  effort, 
directed  by  its  own  knowledge,  it  effects  this  moving,  it  so  far 
makes  the  future  different  from  what  it  would  have  been,  and 
so  far  performs  a  part  in  the  creation  of  the  future." 

In  all  of  these  passages  creation  is  not  used  in  its  primary 
sense  to  denote  the  production  of  something,  whether  real  or 
ideal,  out  of  nothing,  but  in  a  wider  and  more  general  sense,  to 
denote  the  modification  of  what  already  exists.  There  is  little 
advance,  except  in  phraseology,  upon  the  doctrine  already  set 
forth,  that  man  and  all  other  voluntary  agents,  whatever  the 
degree  of  their  intelligence,  are  original  and  efficient  causes. 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  259 

An  oyster  takes  its  evening  meal,  a  bird  constructs  her  nest,  a 
man  purchases  a  horse,  another  carries  to  the  miller  a  sack  of 
grain,  a  third  plants  a  vineyard,  a  fourth  invents  a  sewing-ma- 
chine, a  fifth  makes  a  picture,  a  sixth  carves  a  statue,  a  seventh 
writes  a  poem,  an  eighth,  by  thought  and  action,  builds  up  for 
himself  a  virtuous  and  noble  character.  Under  the  wide  gen- 
eralization of  Mr.  Hazard  these  are  all  creators.  They  have  all, 
by  their  voluntary  efforts,  acting  as  first  causes,  made  the  future 
different  from  what  it  would  otherwise  have  been.  In  their  ca- 
pacity of  original  or  first  causes,  they  are  by  definition  creative 
causes.  All  that  is  necessary  to  constitute  a  creative  cause  is 
original  action.  We  do  not  see  that  the  affix  "  creative  "  adds 
anything  to  "  first  cause."  He  seems  to  have  been  led  to  its 
use  from  the  supposed  resemblance  of  the  work  of  an  artist,  or 
inventor,  or  poet  to  an  act  of  the  divine  creation.  But  this  sup- 
posed resemblance,  as  we  shall  see  further  on,  can  hardly  be 
maintained,  if  his  own  ideal  hypothesis  be  the  true  theory  of  the 
universe.  Whether  we  adopt  his  view  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
divine  act  in  creation  or  the  one  more  commonly  entertained, 
we  are  persuaded  that,  on  a  careful  examination,  there  will  not 
be  discovered  in  any  of  the  instances  given,  or  in  any  work  of 
man,  a  species  of  agency  entitled  to  be  regarded  in  philosophic 
discourse  as  creative.  The  word  must  be  extended  beyond  its 
usual  and  proper  meaning,  to  cover  so  wide  a  generalization. 
Its  use,  however,  gives  a  picturesqueness  to  his  doctrine,  and  as 
he  expressly  states  that  he  applies  it  to  all  voluntary  actions 
which  change  the  future,  there  is  no  danger  of  its  becoming  a 
source  of  error. 

Were  the  author  a  realist  instead  of  an  idealist,  did  he  con- 
ceive matter,  not  as  the  creation  of  mind,  but  as  the  eternal,  un- 


260  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

formed  substance  out  of  which  God  has  from  the  beginning 
been  fashioning  and  peophng  worlds,  then  there  would  be  a  real 
analogy  between  His  works  and  the  work  of  man.  On  this 
supposition  the  case  would  stand  thus :  Matter  is  employed 
alike  in  the  divine  creation  and  in  human  creations,  as  an  in- 
strument for  accomplishing  the  purposes  of  mind.  It  is  taken 
just  as  it  is.  Its  unaltered  properties  are  made,  through  special 
devices,  available  to  these  purposes.  It  is  the  innumerable  con- 
trivances looking  to  intelligible  and  important  ends  through  all 
nature  that  furnish  the  surest  basis  for  the  theistic  argument. 
It  is  similar  contrivances  in  the  constructions  of  man  that  show 
the  human  intelligence  to  be  kindred  to  the  divine.  But  the 
resemblance  in  the  two  cases,  it  should  be  observed,  is  limited  to 
the  device  and  employment  of  appropriate  means  for  the  attain- 
ment of  desired  ends.  It  touches  only  the  intelligence.  The 
human  and  divine  power  are  too  unlike  to  admit  of  comparison. 
The  will  of  man  is  restricted  in  its  influence  to  his  bodily  organ- 
ization, and  can  effect  changes  in  the  outward  world  only 
through  that.  The  will  of  God  must  be  coextensive  in  its  reach 
with  the  universe,  and  be  capable  of  controlling  by  its  exertion 
the  subtlest  forces  of  nature. 

4.  The  fourth  and  last  proposition  of  Mr.  Hazard  is  that  man, 
in  the  sphere  of  his  own  moral  nature,  is  a  supreme  creative 
first  cause.  This  is  perhaps  the  most  instructive  and  valuable 
portion  of  the  work.  It  is  an  illustration  of  what  he  intimates 
in  its  opening  pages,  "  that  the  special  field  of  metaphysical 
utility  is  in  our  moral  nature ;  that  every  one  has  within  himself 
a  domain  as  illimitable  as  that  of  the  external  world  in  which  to 
exert  his  energies  in  the  construction  of  a  moral  universe,  and 
that  within  this  domain  the  finite  intelligence  is  not  only  a  ere- 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  261 

ative  but  a  supreme  creative  power,  and  that  therein,  by  exer- 
cising its  faculties  upon  itself,  it  may  devise  new  modes  of  form- 
ing and  moulding  the  moral  character,  and  supply  a  demand 
which,  always  important,  has  now,  by  our  progress  in  other  di- 
rections, become  the  prominent  and  urgent  necessity  of  our 
time."  He  shows  with  admirable  clearness  how  an  elevated 
moral  character  may  be  acquired  by  one  who  was  not  fortunate 
in  his  original  endowments  ;  how,  under  the  guidance  of  an  in- 
fallible moral  sense  and  with  entire  freedom  in  willing  and  ac- 
tion, he  may  check  the  wrong  tendencies  of  his  nature  and  en- 
courage and  strengthen  the  right  tendencies ;  how,  among  his 
various  and  conflicting  desires,  he  may,  by  power  of  will,  give 
ascendency  to  those  which  favor  virtue,  and  suppress  and  ban- 
ish those  which  lead  to  vice  ;  how  the  malevolent  passions  may 
be  made  to  give  place  to  the  benevolent ;  how  selfishness  and 
greed  may  be  converted  into  generosity  ;  how  one  can  mentally 
construct  a  moral  world,  better  arranged  and  inhabited  by 
beings  more  perfect  than  those  around  him ;  how  he  can  without 
hindrance  make  efforts  to  realize  such  a  world,  and  bring  his 
conduct  and  life  into  harmony  with  it;  how  these  moral  efforts, 
persistently  maintained,  become  at  length  habits ;  and  how  these 
habits,  incorporating  themselves  with  his  very  being,  grow  into 
character.  In  this  way  an  elevated,  pure,  and  noble  character 
may  be  formed  where  it  did  not  previously  exist.  Such  a  char- 
acter is  within  the  reach  of  every  one  if  he  will  only  put  forth 
the  effort  for  it.  He  is  free  to  do  just  as  he  chooses.  His  voli- 
tions are  under  his  own  control.  He  has  a  monitor  and  guide 
which,  so  far  as  his  actions  are  concerned,  is  infallible.  Every 
effort  he  makes  in  obedience  to  its  promptings  is  a  virtuous 
effort,  whatever  may  be  its  consequences.     The  virtue  is  in  the 


262  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

effort.  No  matter  how  imperfectly  instructed  his  conscience 
may  be,  if  he  act  in  accordance  with  the  best  light  he  has,  he 
performs  an  act  of  the  highest  virtue  of  which,  under  existing 
conditions,  he  was  capable.  Of  the  character  he  gains  thereby 
he  is  the  sole  author.  He  is  the  supreme  creative  first  cause  of 
the  change  produced  in  himself,  and  of  all  the  changes  which 
subsequently  spring  from  that  change. 

The  author  illustrates  his  fourth  proposition  at  some  length 
and  with  a  variety  of  interesting  and  instructive  details.  The 
subject  is  so  important  that  we  need  no  apology  for  transferring 
to  our  pages  some  of  his  thoughtful  and  suggestive  paragraphs. 
See  page  63,  section  18 :  "  But  it  is  in  "  .  .  .  down  to  "  Su- 
preme creative  first  cause."  The  word  "  creative,"  we  would 
remark,  has  a  degree  of  propriety  in  this  connection  which  it 
lacked  in  the  previous  cases,  where  the  change  effected  was  in 
the  external,  material  world.  A  man  who  by  his  persistent, 
voluntary  efforts  has  achieved  for  himself  a  lofty  character  may 
be  said,  with  hardly  a  figure  of  speech,  to  have  exercised  crea- 
tive power.  He  has  brought  into  existence  all  that  is  best  in 
himself. 

The  author  adds  certain  cautions  to  be  observed  in  the  work 
of  building  up  a  virtuous  character.  Page  71.  "  We  must  be 
careful  to .  distinguish  between  "...  down  to  "  all  possible 
acquisitions." 

In  what  the  author  says  of  the  limitations  of  Omnipotence, 
he  does  not  mean,  as  we  understand  him,  that  God  could  not 
change  the  character  of  a  bad  man  so  that  he  should  become  a 
good  one,  and  his  voluntary  actions  be  virtuous  ;  but  that,  the 
man's  character  remaining  the  same,  God  could  not,  by  mere 
pressure  upon  his  will,  make  his  actions  virtuous. 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  263 

Incidental  to  the  main  discussion  and  subsidiary  to  some  of 
the  positions  taken  in  it,  are  speculations  not  inferior  in  interest 
to  the  discussion  itself.  One  of  these  is  his  theory  of  instinct- 
ive actions.  He  supposes  these  to  be  voluntary  and  intelli- 
gently performed.  The  knowledge,  however,  of  the  end  to  be 
attained  and  of  the  means  of  reaching  it  is  innate  or  given  in 
the  constitution  of  the  being.  He  has  this  knowledge  prior  to 
all  experience,  and  is  able  to  act  intelligently  without  aid  from 
that  source.  Instinctive  actions,  therefore,  differ  from  rational 
and  deliberative  actions  simply  in  the  way  in  which  the  knowl- 
edge guiding  the  will  is  acquired.  In  the  first  case  it  is  innate, 
or  constitutional ;  in  the  second  case  it  is  gained  from  experi- 
ence. In  both  cases  the  action  is  voluntary  and  the  will  is 
guided  by  intelligence.  He  is  forced  into  this  position  by  the 
dogma  to  which  he  constantly  adheres,  that  matter  is  incapable 
of  acting  as  a  cause ;  that  it  cannot  even  put  itself  in  motion  ; 
that  original  action  can  be  affirmed  only  of  mind;  and  that 
mind  acts  voluntarily  under  the  guidance  of  its  knowledge.  If 
these  instinctive  movements  could  take  place  without  the  inter- 
vention of  intelligence  and  will,  then  matter  properly  organized 
may  put  itself  in  motion. 

Unfortunately  for  the  theory  of  Mr.  Hazard,  it  derives  sup- 
port from  the  teachings  of  neither  psychology  nor  physiology. 
There  are  actions  which  take  place  not  only  without  the  stimu- 
lus of  the  will,  but  in  direct  opposition  to  its  most  strenuous  ex- 
ertion. Some  of  these,  as  laughing,  weeping,  coughing,  sneez- 
ing, are  described  by  physiologists  as  consensual,  in  distinction 
from  voluntary  actions.  The  muscular  contractions  and  relaxa- 
tions by  which  the  infant  first  draws  nutriment  from  the  mater- 
nal breast  are  undoubtedly  of  this  class.     They  are  prompted 


264  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

immediately  by  the  sensation  of  hunger,  without  the  slightest 
knowledge  of  the  necessity  of  food  or  of  means  of  procuring  it. 

There  are  other  actions  in  which  neither  the  will  nor  sensa- 
tion has  part.  They  are  caused  by  the  mere  contact  of  the  ap- 
propriate stimuli.  Such  are  the  alternate  lengthening  and 
shortening  of  the  muscles  upon  which  respiration  ordinarily  de- 
pends. Such  is  the  combined  action  of  the  heart  and  arteries 
in  forcing  the  blood  in  microscopic  streams  through  all  the  tis- 
sues. Such  are  the  peculiar  motions  of  the  alimentary  tube 
which  carries  the  food,  as  fast  as  it  is  prepared,  along  its  devi- 
ous way.  Such  are  all  the  functions  which  serve  for  the  imme- 
diate maintenance  of  life.  They  are  traced  to  a  connection  with 
different  parts  of  what  is  known  as  the  excito-motary  system  of 
nerves.  They  are  carried  on  in  a  state  of  profound  uncon- 
sciousness. Were  they  dependent  upon  our  voluntary  powers, 
sleep,  instead  of  bringing  refreshment,  would  cause  immediate 
death. 

The  author  explains  in  a  similar  manner  the  philosophy  of 
habit,  —  how  habit  becomes  second  nature  ;  how  the  repetition 
of  an  action  makes  it  easy,  so  that  at  length  we  perform  it  with- 
out conscious  effort.  The  first  time  we  perform  the  action  there 
is  necessarily  thought  and  deliberation  as  to  the  best  mode  of  ac- 
complishing the  object  which  we  have  in  view.  This  occasions 
delay.  The  second  time  we  perform  the  action  the  deliberation 
is  shorter  and  the  delay  occasioned  less.  The  third  time  the 
delay  is  still  further  diminished,  and  so  on,  until  we  at  length 
come  to  act  with  the  knowledge,  although  acquired  by  experi- 
ence, as  immediately  present  to  the  mind  as  if  it  were  innate. 
This  is  part  of  the  explanation  of  the  influence  of  habit.  But 
is  it  the  whole  explanation  ?     We  think  not.     The  change  is 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  265 

not  simply  mental.  It  is  corporeal  too.  Habit  is  a  thing  of  the 
body  as  well  as  of  the  mind.  It  is  the  outcome  of  the  law  of 
association.  This  law  may  be  thus  stated  :  Whenever  two  acts, 
whether  bodily  or  mental,  have  been  either  simultaneously  or 
successively  performed,  one  act  has  a  tendency  to  introduce  the 
other.  This  is  why  ideas  flow  through  the  mind  in  a  train,  the 
order  of  the  train,  unless  interrupted  by  external  perceptions, 
being  determined  by  previous  habits  of  thought.  This  explains 
why  the  fingers  of  the  pianist  fly  over  the  keys  of  his  instru- 
ment so  rapidly  and  with  touch  so  unerring.  Each  movement 
tends  to  produce  the  next  in  the  train  of  movements  which  has 
been  voluntarily  established,  but  which,  once  commenced,  is  now 
continued  with  hardly  a  conscious  volition.  Indeed,  it  would 
seem,  as  some  physiologists  tell  us,  that  actions  associated  by 
habit  are  transferred  from  the  voluntary  to  the  involuntary  or 
automatic  system  of  nerves,  —  that  the  work  to  which  such  ac- 
tions are  subsidiary  was  done  for  us  rather  than  by  us.  Cer- 
tainly we  do  not  experience  fatigue  from  it  as  from  work  which 
requires  our  continuous  attention.  Who  does  not  know  that 
the  best  intellectual  work  is  done  when  thought,  quickened  by 
feeling,  flows  spontaneously,  and  the  brain  has  not  to  be  urged 
by  the  spur  of  the  will  ? 

We  should  not  do  justice  to  the  volume  if  we  did  not  refer 
briefly  to  the  two  modes  pointed  out  so  clearly,  by  which  the 
mind  seeks  for  and  arrives  at  truth.  They  are  by  intuition  and 
ratiocination ;  or,  by  direct  insight  and  the  drawing  of  infer- 
ences ;  or,  as  he  prefers  to  designate  them,  by  the  poetic  method 
and  the  prosaic  or  logical  method.  Before  the  prosaic  or  log- 
ical method  can  be  practiced,  objects  must  be  classified,  and  the 
properties  common  to  each  class  must  be  gathered  up  and  repre- 


266  MAN  A  CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

sented  by  general  terms  or  symbols.  This  process  is  called  in- 
duction. If  it  has  been  correctly  performed,  the  general  truths 
arrived  at  are  the  major  premises  of  syllogisms,  and  can  be  used 
as  such  till  their  contents  are  exhausted.  Their  employment  in 
this  way  is  called  ratiocination.  The  truth  is  not  directly  seen 
and  apprehended,  but  is  simply  inferred  from  a  comparison  of 
ratios.  These  ratios  are  expressed  by  general  terms  or  symbols, 
and,  in  reasoning,  we  need  not  and  do  not  usually  extend  our 
thought,  beyond  the  symbols  to  the  things  denoted  by  them. 
The  science  of  algebra  furnishes  the  purest  illustrations  of  this 
mode  of  arriving  at  truth. 

The  other  mode,  by  direct  insight,  has  nothing  to  do  with 
definitions  or  terms,  but  deals  immediately  with  things.  It  con- 
templates these  and  apprehends  directly  their  qualities  and  rela- 
tions. The  mind  accepts  nothing  at  second  hand,  but  sees  for 
itself.  Percipiency  is  the  attribute  or  faculty  which  it  chiefly 
employs.  It  analyzes  and  distinguishes  and  separates.  It  notes 
resemblances  and  differences.  It  ascertains  the  contents,  not  of 
general  terms,  but  of  individual  things.  It  cleaves  to  things, 
with  little  attention  to  the  words  denoting  them.  When  at- 
tempting to  convey  an  idea  of  them  to  others,  it  chooses  the 
most  simple  and  picturesque  language  at  its  command.  This 
intuition,  this  marvelous  insight,  is  the  gift  of  the  poet,  of  the 
philosopher,  of  the  man  of  strong  common  sense  in  ordinary 
business  affairs,  and  especially  of  woman,  whose  quick  and  clear 
perception  of  circumstances  and  sound  judgment  upon  them  is 
willingly  acknowledged  by  the  sterner  sex  in  all  the  more  deli- 
cate relations  of  life.  Persons  of  this  class,  reaching  conclu- 
sions by  a  species  of  intuition,  are  frequently  unable  to  give 
reasons  for  them  that  are  satisfactory  to  others.     One  party  has 


MAN  A   CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  267 

not  the  language,  the  other  has  not  the  sight.  We  cannot  re- 
sist the  pleasure  of  quoting  one  or  two  of  Mr.  Hazard's  beautiful 
illustrations  of  his  doctrine. 

Page  57.  "  All  general  propositions  must  "...  to  page  60 : 
"  reason  for  their  consequent  action." 

The  personal  freedom  and  moral  accountability  of  man  lie  at 
the  foundation  of  most  of  the  propositions  of  Mr.  Hazard.  It 
is  the  establishment  of  these  beyond  the  possibility  of  question 
that  constitutes  the  chief  value  of  the  little  volume.  The  vari- 
ous fallacies  which  have  gathered  about  these  truths,  so  as  more 
or  less  completely  to  disguise  them,  he  has  unmasked  and  scat- 
tered to  the  winds.  For  this,  no  easy  or  unimportant  work,  we 
owe  him  a  debt  of  gratitude. 

Of  his  ideal  theory  of  matter,  which  is  interwoven  with  the 
entire  discussion,  we  cannot  speak  with  the  same  commendation. 
We  do  not  see  that  it  adds  anything  to  the  weight  or  clearness 
of  his  argument.  No  one  of  his  conclusions  rests  upon  it. 
They  would  be  equally  true  on  any  other  hypothesis,  or  without 
any  hypothesis  at  all.  The  theory  seems  to  be  kept  abreast  with 
the  discussion,  not  so  much  for  lending  support  to  the  conclu- 
sions reached  as  for  showing  its  compatibility  with  them.  The 
author  thinks  that  on  the  ideal  hypothesis  creation  is  more  con- 
ceivable than  on  any  other;  is  brought  within  the  range  of 
powers  which  we  ourselves  possess.  He  says  that  "  we  already 
have  and  habitually  exercise  all  the  faculties  essential  to  mate- 
rial creation,  and  with  the  requisite  increase  in  that  of  impressing 
our  conception  upon  the  minds  of  others,  we  could  design  and 
give  palpable  persistent  existence  to  a  universe  varying  to  any 
extent  from  that  which  now  environs  us,  which  would  be  objec- 
tively as  real  and  material  to  the  vision,  even  of  others,  as  the 


268  ^^AN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE. 

heaven  and  earth  they  now  look  out  upon."  This  seems  to  us 
wholly  illusory.  Whatever  theory  of  intelligent  creation  we 
adopt,  the  conception  of  the  thing  to  be  created  must  precede  the 
act  of  creation.  The  act  of  creation,  on  the  ideal  hypothesis, 
consists  not  in  forming  the  idea,  but  in  making  that  idea  real 
and  palpable  to  all  intelligences.  It  is  not,  be  it  remembered, 
one  idea  that  is  to  be  made  real  and  palpable  to  a  single  mind, 
but  an  infinite  number  of  different  ideas  are  supposed  to  be  im- 
pressed at  the  same  time  upon  an  equal  number  of  different  in- 
telligences ;  and  that,  too,  not  for  one  moment  only,  but  for 
every  instant  of  recorded  time.  Have  we  any  power  akin  to 
this  ?  Can  the  human  mind  even  take  in  so  vast  and  complex 
a  conception  ?  God  creating  each  moment  the  infinitely  varied 
perceptions  of  which  his  creatures  are  conscious,  from  an  oyster's 
faint  and  glimmering  apprehension  of  something  without  itself 
to  the  wonders  of  the  starry  heavens,  as  revealed  to  the  eye  and 
mind  of  a  Newton  ! 

The  supposed  analogy  of  creation,  thus  conceived,  to  the 
work  of  an  artist,  to  which  the  author  attaches  importance, 
is,  we  think,  wholly  imaginary.  There  is  no  such  analogy. 
There  is  not  even  the  remotest  resemblance  between  the  two 
cases.  The  sculptor,  for  instance,  chooses  a  block  of  marble 
—  that  is,  a  fragment  of  the  divine  thought,  detached  and 
raised  from  the  quarry  —  in  which  to  embody  his  ideal.  By  the 
continued  application  of  the  hammer  and  chisel,  he  prevails  upon 
God  gradually  to  change  this  fragment  of  the  divine  thought 
until  it  comes  at  length  to  represent  his  own  thought,  and  serves 
to  convey  it  more  or  less  perfectly  to  others.  Although  thus 
modified,  it  is  still  God's  thought ;  and  it  is  God,  and  not  the 
artist,  that  makes  it  real  and  palpable  to  all  who  look  or  imagine 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  269 

they  look  upon  the  statue.  The  work  is  done  by  God  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  will  of  the  artist.  God  does  everything  ;  the  artist 
nothing.  The  only  capacity  in  which  the  artist  can  possibly 
act  is  that  of  a  guide  and  assistant  to  God  in  modifying  His  orig- 
inal thought  and  bringing  it  into  its  present  representative  form. 

There  is  but  one  theory  of  creation  that  seems  to  us  more  im- 
probable, or  with  which  we  have  less  sympathy.  It  is  that  which 
supposes  matter  to  exist,  but  to  be  in  itself  wholly  inert.  The 
forces  that  appear  in  it  are  not  of  it.  They  are  dependent, 
each  moment,  upon  the  exertion  of  the  divine  will.  Why,  it 
may  well  be  asked,  suppose  the  existence  of  matter  if  it  has  no 
part  in  the  production  of  the  phenomena  ascribed  to  it  ?  All 
that  we  know  of  matter  is  through  these  phenomena. 

Although  we  would  not  press  any  hypothesis  on  a  subject  so 
far  beyond  our  comprehension,  we  are  inclined  to  look  upon 
matter  not  only  as  real  and  substantial,  but  as  eternal,  and  as 
having  possessed  from  all  eternity  the  properties  with  which  we 
now  find  it.  These  properties  make  it  a  fit  material  for  the 
creations  of  mind,  —  creations  which  cannot  transcend,  but  must 
conform  to,  the  powers  of  that  in  which  it  works.  This  suppo- 
sition is  favored  by  the  very  wide  distribution  of  matter  having 
everywhere  the  same  elementary  constitution,  and  by  the  very 
remote  epochs  to  which  the  worlds  achieved  from  it  look  back. 
It  will  also  go  further,  as  we  think,  than  any  other  hypothesis 
towards  explaining  some  of  the  profoundest  mysteries  of  the 
universe.  As  the  subject  is  one  of  which  we  really  know  noth- 
ing, it  is  perhaps  well  that  different  minds  should  look  at  it 
differently.  That  view  of  the  creative  work  which  to  any  one 
seems  the  most  worthy,  and  which  fills  him  with  the  deepest  rev- 
erence for  the  Author  of  nature,  will  be  for  him  the  best  view. 


270  MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST   CAUSE. 

For  Mr.  Hazard,  idealism  fulfills  most  perfectly  this  condition. 
He  has  been  accustomed,  in  contemplating  the  changes  of  the 
outward  world,  to  substitute  for  material  causation  the  orderly 
movements  of  the  divine  will.  This  has  become  to  him  the 
most  simple  and  natural  mode  of  looking  at  the  phenomena 
transpiring  around  him.  It  saves  him  from  the  unreasonable- 
ness, as  he  thinks,  of  ascribing  active  powers  to  a  substance 
whose  best  known  characteristic  is  inertia,  and  excludes  the  idea 
of  physical  necessity,  so  baleful  in  its  influence,  from  the  sphere 
of  human  conduct.  It  at  the  same  time  elevates  and  ennobles 
man  by  bringing  him,  in  all  the  offices  of  life,  into  immediate 
intercourse  and  communion  with  the  Author  of  his  being. 
These  ideas  are  presented  with  singular  beauty  in  the  closing 
pages  of  the  work.  Page  96,  line  3  :  "It  is  clear,  therefore," 
...  to  page  99,  closing  with  "  pronounce  it  good." 

There  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  immense  superiority  of  idealism 
in  every  respect  over  a  low  and  gross  materialism.  But  is  it 
necessary  to  choose  between  these  two  extreme  views  of  nature  ? 
Is  there  no  intermediate  conception  having  more  to  commend  it 
to  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  and  at  the  same  time  answer- 
ing better  the  requirements  of  a  sound  philosophical  theory? 
Are  the  manifestations  of  mind  and  matter  so  identical  in  char- 
acter that  it  is  necessary  to  refer  them  to  the  same  one  essence  ? 
On  the  contrary,  are  they  not  as  strikingly  distinguished  from 
one  another  as  light  from  darkness  ?  so  unlike  as  to  have  noth- 
ing in  common,  except  that  they  both  exist  ?  one  making  itself 
known  to  the  intelligence  only,  the  other  palpable  to  the  senses ; 
one  self  -  conscious,  acting  voluntarily  under  the  guidance  of 
knowledge,  with  reference  to  some  desired  end ;  the  other  un- 
conscious, as  we  have  every  reason  to  believe,  acting  without 


MAN  A    CREATIVE  FIRST  CAUSE.  271 

knowledge,  or  choice,  or  end,  but  determined  in  its  manifesta- 
tions of  energy  solely  by  antecedent  conditions  ?  Why  place 
essences  phenomenally  so  contrasted  under  the  same  category  ? 
Why  insist  upon  unitarianism,  mind  or  matter,  when  dualism, 
mind  and  matter,  mind  directing  the  activities  of  matter,  making 
use  of  matter  as  an  instrument  for  accomplishing  the  purposes 
of  mind,  building  up  from  it  worlds  and  peopling  them  with  in- 
numerable forms  of  life,  is  more  simple  and  better  fulfills  the 
conditions  of  the  sublime  problem  ?  But  we  will  not  argue  the 
question.  We  have  only  desired  to  call  attention  to  a  remark- 
able book,  full  of  original  thought  expressed  in  language  so  clear 
and  simple  as  to  be  readily  understood  by  all.  The  little  vol- 
ume deserves  and  will  repay  a  careful  perusal. 


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